I wanted to wear our first date dress to our anniversary dinner with my hubby. Really important to me. However, it vanished days earlier.
My MIL shrugged when I asked. However, seeing her sister wearing it in a Facebook post at a backyard party with a wine glass made my blood boil. I blinked at the screen, hoping my eyes were deceiving me.
Nope. My dress was burgundy silk with small gold buttons on the sleeves. The one I carefully put in the garment bag in our closet’s back.
Felt nauseous. I saw more than fabric in that garment. It was my dress when Thomas, my husband, hesitantly asked if I would be happy with hearing his horrible jokes forever.
I laughed so hard I almost spilled wine. Our beginning was sewn onto that outfit. I stormed into my mother-in-law’s guest room and calmly inquired, “Did you lend my burgundy dress to Aunt Connie?”
Her disdainful shrug appeared as she looked up from knitting.
“She wore nothing nice to her cousin’s retirement. Just a dress.”
One dress. Swallowed the lump in my throat.
„That garment is important to me.”
She waved her hand like a flytetter. “You have better ones. Let go.”
No argument.
I left, heart beating, palms sweating. I was afraid to say anything else without erupting. Instead, I called Thomas from the car.
He sighed after listening quietly. “I’ll talk to her, baby.”
One thing about Thomas. He’s calm.
Thoughtful. Stable for my storm. Deep down, I knew it would fail.
His mother dismissed everything. He avoided battle to maintain peace. After bedtime, I went to the guest room.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
TAP ” READ MORE ” 👇
