When my daughter walked down the aisle, she wasn’t wearing the ivory dress we had spent months perfecting. Instead, she wore a dress as black as night, and the story behind it was chilling.
I still remember the day Jane called me, her voice full of joy.
“Mom! He proposed!” she nearly shouted.
I had expected it—Jack had been part of her life for five years. They seemed happy. At least, that’s what I believed.
From that moment, wedding planning took over. The very first thing we chose was the dress.
Jane had always wanted something truly unique.
“Oh, we’re going to make her look like royalty,” Helen said.
It was a long process and costly, but it was perfect.
A few days before the wedding, I saw the almost finished dress—ivory satin, delicate lace, and a flowing train.
Or so I thought.
The night before the wedding, I noticed Jack acting strangely. Usually polite and a bit reserved, but that night, something was off.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
Jack forced a smile. “Yeah, just a little nervous.”
That made sense; weddings are emotional events.
Still, something felt different.
The next morning was full of excitement.
Helen arrived carrying a large white box.
“Here it is,” she said.
I smiled. “I can’t wait to see it again—it was so beautiful last time.”
But inside the box was a black dress. Not ivory, not white—completely black. My hands trembled. My throat went dry.
“Helen,” I whispered, “What is this?”
She placed her hand over mine. “Trust me.”
“Jane?” I asked, voice breaking. “What’s going on?”
She finally looked at me.
“I have to do this, Mom.”
My chest tightened. “Do what? Walk down the aisle in a—Jane, this isn’t a joke! It’s your wedding!”
I struggled to breathe.
The venue was stunning. Guests whispered excitedly, their faces lit with anticipation.
“She’s going to be stunning.”
“They’re such a perfect couple.”
“I heard Jack cried at rehearsal!”
I sat, hands clenched, heart pounding. They didn’t know the truth.
Then the music changed.
Jane appeared, dressed in black.
“What…?”
“Is this some kind of joke?”
“Is that really her dress?”
I was frozen.
Then I saw Jack’s face—his smile gone, pale and sad.
I suddenly understood.
A memory flashed—a movie Jane and I watched years ago where a woman, betrayed by her fiancé, walked down the aisle in black—not as a bride, but as a woman hurt by love.
I thought it was just drama. But Jane remembered. Now, she was living it.
My stomach twisted. This wasn’t a mistake or a joke. It was her statement.
Jack tried a nervous laugh. “Babe, what is this? Why the dress?”
Jane didn’t answer.
She simply nodded. “Yes. Let’s continue.”
The ceremony went on, but no one was really listening.
Jack took a deep breath and took Jane’s hands.
“Jane, from the moment I met you, I knew you were the one. You are my best friend, my soulmate, my everything. I promise to love and honor you forever.”
Jane’s voice was steady. “With this dress, I bury all my hopes for this wedding and for us—because real love doesn’t betray you days before the wedding.”
“Oh my god—Jack cheated?”
Jack’s face went pale. “Jane—wait—”
“I trusted you. I loved you. I was ready to spend my life with you.” She paused but didn’t waver. “Then I found out the truth.”
“Babe, it’s not what you think—”
“Please,” he begged, voice cracking. “Jane, I love you!”
Jane looked down at him, unmoved. Then she dropped her bouquet.
She breathed slowly. “I found out three days ago. The messages. The late-night calls. The lies.”
I squeezed her hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew what people would say. ‘It’s cold feet. He loves you. Don’t ruin everything over one mistake.’” She swallowed hard. “But love shouldn’t betray you like that.”
“No, it shouldn’t.”
Jane looked up, blinking fast. “It felt like when we lost Dad. I thought I had something real and safe. But then it just vanished.”
I hugged her tightly, like when she was a child. “You did the right thing. I’m so proud of you.”
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