My daughter Emily had finally found the perfect prom dress. She twirled in front of the mirror, her eyes sparkling, and for a second, I saw both the little girl who once needed my help and the young woman preparing to step into her own world. We left the store with the dress in hand, my purse lighter but my heart full. Yet as she danced toward the car, I noticed a folded note tucked under the windshield wiper. It read: “Don’t let her go to prom.” I laughed it off for Emily’s sake, but unease settled in my chest.
The next day, Emily’s excitement was crushed when her date, Carter, suddenly canceled. She sobbed in her room, convinced she wasn’t good enough. I comforted her, urging her to try on her dress. When she did, her posture lifted and confidence returned. I told her any boy who walked away was a fool, and she bravely decided to attend prom anyway.
Prom night arrived, buzzing with energy. Emily disappeared inside to change while I waited near the entrance. That’s when I saw him—Tom, an old classmate I hadn’t spoken to in decades. We exchanged polite words, but something about his presence unsettled me. Moments later, Emily burst out, crying. Her dress had been slashed to pieces in the locker room.
My stomach dropped. Tom stood in the hallway, smiling. Confronted, he admitted he left the note, spread lies, and ruined her dress out of revenge for me rejecting him at prom twenty years ago.
Shaken but determined, I gave Emily a backup gown I had secretly bought. She slipped it on, radiant once more.
That night, Emily walked into prom with her head held high. She danced, laughed, and shone brighter than anyone who tried to dim her light. Tom? He was fired the same night. Revenge never wins—love always does.
