My daughter’s wedding dress was black… and that wasn’t even the worst part

The very first thing we planned after Chloé got engaged was the dress. She had dreamed since childhood of a unique gown, made just for her. Naturally, I thought of Laura—a loyal friend and the most talented seamstress I know.

She gave it her all for months. The choice of fabrics, the lace details, the cut… everything was nearly perfect. A few days before the big day, I caught a glimpse of the almost-finished dress. I thought: This is it. This is my daughter’s dream.

Then the wedding day arrived.

Laura came in with a large white box. I opened it… and my heart skipped a beat.

The dress was black.

Me: “Laura… what… what is this?!”

She looked at me calmly, placed her hand on mine, and said:

“Trust me.”

Then she added gently:

“You should sit down now.”

I was frozen. My brain screamed: A joke? Some kind of setup?

Then the music started.

And when Chloé walked through the doors…

The room fell silent.

That was the exact moment everything made sense.

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