4 August 2025 Love pets Uncategorised 0
Just as my daughter found the perfect prom dress and danced happily toward the car, I saw a folded note on the windshield. It read: “Don’t let her go to prom.” I laughed so as not to worry her—but deep down, something didn’t feel right.
Summer was arriving at full speed. The heat grew ever more intense, and the air smelled of sunscreen and freshly cut grass.
The time had come to dance, and this time it wasn’t mine.
It was surreal. I could still see the younger version of myself, huddled in the window of my mother’s kitchen, nervously watching the driveway.
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My heart was pounding, waiting for the boy I liked—who would later become my husband—to approach me and ask me to dance.
It was a sweet and simple time.
A memory pressed into the pages of my mind like an old dried flower.
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Now, here I was, with a bag full of receipts in my hand, watching my daughter, Emily, twirl in front of mirrors, trying to pick out the perfect dress for her big night.
We’d been like this for hours. My feet were aching, my patience was shorter than usual, but I kept bringing her dresses.
I was leaning toward the elegant: soft silks, high necklines, clean lines.
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But Emily had her own vision. She was drawn to bright colors, bold cuts, and shiny things.
“Mom,” she said, rolling her eyes at a dress I picked out, “you dress like you’re from the Middle Ages.”
I laughed, even though it hurt. I wasn’t ready to be the “old-fashioned” mother yet, but I didn’t let it show. Times had changed. This wasn’t about me.
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That night was hers, and if she wore a dress with a smile that lit up her face, then it was the right one.
And he found it.
It fit her perfectly and shone under the lights.
His eyes lit up as he turned to me.
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For a second, I saw both the little girl who once needed help tying her shoes and the young woman who would soon leave home and enter the world.
I paid for the dress—I winced at the total, but hid it well—and we left.
Emily danced toward the passenger door, phone in hand and her favorite playlist on.
She gave a little laugh, full of life.
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My purse was lighter, but my heart was full.
And then I saw her.
A white note, carefully placed under the windshield wiper, gently fluttering in the wind.
I frowned and pulled her.
The paper was cheap, the handwriting neat and hurried.
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“Don’t let him go to prom.”
My stomach dropped.
“What’s that?” Emily exclaimed, her head tilted in curiosity.
I forced a smile, quickly folded the note, and stuffed it in my pocket as if it were nothing.
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“Just an idiot with a bad sense of humor,” I said. “Nothing to worry about.”
But when I started the car, my hands shook on the steering wheel.
My fingers felt cold. My mind raced.
Who would write that? Why?
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I had no answers.
Just a daughter in the seat next to me, full of joy and plans, and a folded note that made my heart whisper warnings I wasn’t ready to hear.
The next day passed in a blur: work meetings, picking up dry cleaning, stocking the fridge.
The kind of day that fills your hours but leaves your mind busy with other things.
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The note from the windshield kept echoing in my head, even though I had stuffed it deep into my bag.
When I arrived at the entrance of the house, the sky was already getting dark.
I took off my shoes by the door and walked up the stairs: “Emily, I’m home!”
Silence.
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My smile faded. Something didn’t fit. I waited a moment and climbed the stairs slowly, each step heavier than the last.
Her door was ajar, just enough for the sound to reach me: muffled, quiet sobs.
“Honey?” I said softly as I walked in.
She was curled up on her side, still in jeans and a T-shirt, her face turned toward the wall.
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Her mascara had run down into fine black rivers.
I sat down on the bed next to her, my heart sinking.
“What happened?”
He turned away, his voice weak and cracking. “Carter regretted it.”
“That?”
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“He texted me… he said he wasn’t going to the dance with me anymore.” Her lower lip trembled.
“He probably asked someone else. Maybe a prettier or more popular girl.”
“Honey…” I held out my hand, but he pulled it away and covered his face with it.
“No one else asked me, Mom. I’m not going.”
She sobbed again, this time more loudly.
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I wanted to wrap her in a blanket and protect her from all the sharp edges in the world.
I sat with her, in silence, and said, “I know it hurts. But this isn’t the end. This is just a blank page in a much bigger book.”
She sniffled, not answering.
“Why don’t you try on the dress?” I said softly. “Just a moment.”
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He hesitated, but nodded.
He wiped his cheeks, stood up, walked over to the closet, and pulled it out.
As he zipped up and turned to face the mirror, I saw his spine straighten and his eyes light up again.
“Any guy who turns this down is a fool,” I said.
A soft smile appeared on her lips.
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“Don’t let this break you,” I whispered. “Let them see what they’ve missed.”
He looked back at me and nodded. “Okay, Mom. I’ll go.”
Prom day came high and fast, like thunder rolling over the hills.
Everything felt electric: the sky, the breeze, even the way Emily bounced on her heels next to me as we parked in front of the school.
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We had arrived early, as we had planned.
She didn’t want to wrinkle the dress on the way, so she brought it in a garment bag and changed in one of the side rooms next to the gym.
I handed him the bag and kissed his cheek. “Take your time,” I said. “I’ll be here soon.”
He smiled, a flash of excitement in his eyes, and disappeared into the building.
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I stood near the school entrance, arms crossed, watching the children begin to file in.
Laughter echoed in the parking lot, high heels clicked on the pavement, and car doors rattled like soft drums. It all felt strangely familiar.
“Is she your daughter?” a voice asked behind me.
I turned around.
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“Tom?” I said, blinking at the man standing there.
He was smiling. His hair was a little finer and his face was older, but his eyes were the same: a clear blue, a little dull with age.
“I didn’t expect to meet you,” he said.
“Do you work here?” I asked, surprised.
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“Physical education teacher,” he nodded. “It’s been almost a year. I saw you at the last parents’ night, but I didn’t get a chance to say hello.”
“It’s been… a long time.”
“Since our prom, right?”
I looked down and looked back at him.
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“Yeah… I remember. By the way, I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “Don’t be. I was dramatic back then. It’s ancient history.”
“Still, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was young. Things were complicated.”
He smiled again, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“You have a lovely daughter. Looks like you did well.”
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Before I could answer, he waved at me and started walking down the hall.
How strange. I haven’t thought about Tom in years.
He’d invited me to the high school prom, and I’d said no. I was already falling in love with the man I’d later marry.
Tom hadn’t taken it well then… but that was so long ago. I guessed he’d forgotten.
And then I saw Emily.
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She left the building, tears staining her makeup and her hands shaking.
“Mom!” she cried, breathless. “Something’s wrong.”
“Mom!” Emily cried, her voice choked and panicked as she grabbed my hand. “Come here, please!”
I didn’t ask any questions. His eyes told me enough.
I quickly followed her down the hall and around the corner into the locker room where she had been changing a few minutes earlier.
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Her dress was there, but not in its entirety.
It was in disarray on the bench. The satin fabric had deep, jagged cuts across the bodice. Loose threads dangled like spider legs, and sequins glittered uselessly on the floor.
“I was fine when I left,” she said, shaking her head, her voice choked with sobs. “Someone did it on purpose.”
I stared at her, speechless. My stomach sank. I felt like the air had left the room.
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I knelt beside her and hugged her trembling shoulders. “We’ll work this out,” I whispered, though I didn’t know how.
I helped her to her feet and gently guided her back to the car. She sat in the front seat, trying to steady her breathing.
“Stay here, honey,” I said softly. “I’ll be right back.”
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I closed the car door and turned toward the school. That’s when I saw him.
To Tom.
He stood behind the glass doors, leaning casually against the hallway wall with his arms crossed. And what’s worse: he was smiling.
A wave of cold swept over me.
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I pushed the door open and walked toward him, my steps firm and my fists clenched.
“Do you think this is funny?” I snapped.
He didn’t blink. “I tried to warn you not to let her come,” he said. “I left you that note. I even talked to some guys. I convinced them she wasn’t worth it.”
My mouth went dry. “What?”
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“You ruined my prom, Ellie,” he said, his voice calm, as if we were talking about the weather. “Do you think I’ve forgotten? You made me feel invisible.”
“That was twenty years ago,” I said, barely able to keep my voice from trembling.
He shrugged. “Now it’s your turn to watch someone cry.”
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I stared at him, my heart pounding, then turned and walked away.
I couldn’t look at him for another second.
My hands were shaking. My throat was burning.
How could anyone carry that kind of hatred for so long?
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And how could he hurt my daughter just to get revenge on me?
Emily was sitting in the car, carefully wiping away her tears.
She tried to maintain her composure and not ruin her makeup. My brave girl.
I opened the trunk and took out a long bag of clothes.
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She looked at me, confused. “What’s that?”
“I wasn’t sure if I should give it to you,” I said, handing it to him.
“But when we were in the store, I saw a second dress. It reminded me of mine. I bought it without knowing why.”
He opened the bag.
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The dress shimmered in the dim light. It wasn’t flashy or trendy. It was timeless. Like her.
He touched the fabric and his eyes softened. “Mom… I love it.”
She put it on right there in the car, put her hair up, and turned to me.
“Let’s go,” he said.
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I walked her to the front door and watched her walk in, strong and smiling again.
Tom? He didn’t win. That same night I reported him to the school principal.
When they saw the dress and heard what he had said, they fired him on the spot.
Maybe he thought revenge would heal what was broken.
But hurting a little girl? That never leads to peace.
Emily danced that night. She laughed. And her light shone brighter than any child or bitter man could ever dim.
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