Mother Wears White to Daughter’s Wedding — But the Bride Has the Perfect Response

Then I saw her. At the very front row, center. My heart stopped. My breath hitched. The entire room seemed to quiet, a collective gasp that was almost imperceptible, yet deafening to me. She wore white. Not ivory, not cream, not champagne. PURE, unadulterated, blinding white. A flowing gown, elegant, expensive. It could have been a bride’s dress. It was a bride’s dress.

No. She couldn’t have. My mind raced, trying to find an explanation. A mistake. A cruel joke. But her smile, fixed and slightly triumphant, said otherwise. This wasn’t an accident. This was a deliberate act of sabotage, designed to steal my light, to make her the center of attention. On my wedding day. Humiliation washed over me, a hot, stinging tide. My vision blurred. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. I wanted to hide. EVERYONE WAS LOOKING.

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