And when it was finally done… I knew.
It wasn’t just a dress.
It was the last piece of him I still had.
When I stepped into the living room, they noticed immediately.
My stepmother looked me up and down like I had done something embarrassing.
My stepsisters laughed.
Not loudly.
Worse—quiet, cutting laughs. The kind that stay with you.
“Is that supposed to be a dress?” one of them said.
I didn’t answer.
I just stood there.
Because if I said anything, I knew my voice would shake.
Then there was a knock at the door.
