had suddenly canceled. She blamed herself. I didn’t. My instincts told me it wasn’t random. I urged her to try the dress on anyway, to remember who she was beyond anyone’s approval. She smiled—but the hurt lingered in her eyes.
That night, while waiting outside the venue, I saw Tom—my old high school ex, now a teacher at Emily’s school. The one I said no to for prom, twenty years ago. He smiled like nothing had passed, but the moment felt off. Minutes later, Emily fled the building, her gown shredded, her face streaked with tears.
Tom confessed it all. The note, the sabotage, the lies he spread to keep boys away. A petty grudge held hostage for decades. I had him reported that night. But the real story? Emily. She wore a backup dress I’d hidden away—sleek, timeless. She walked back in, chin high, and danced like the world hadn’t tried to break her.
