Some say money can’t buy love, but my ex-husband’s new wife thought a $1,000 prom gown could win my daughter’s heart. She mocked me in front of my girl to establish her superiority. Ultimately, she left with embarrassment, as witnessed by all.
My name is Willow. Rowan and I divorced six years ago. He continued swiftly. Valeria, his new wife, talks like she’s always talking and acts like kindness is rare.
Our 17-year-old daughter, Liora, has long limbs, big dreams, and that fresh teenage perspective that amazes me.
She graduates high school this spring and starts college in the fall. She fell in love with a dress between school and her bookshop part-time job.
Mom, see this! She showed me her phone while I cooked dinner and remarked, “It’s perfect for prom!” A satin garment with star-like beads appeared on television. I was amazed. That $1,000 was way out of my budget.
As usual, my heart plummeted when funds didn’t match. I work two jobs to eat and pay utilities. Little is left for extras.
“It’s gorgeous, sweetheart,” I replied, apron-wiping. Really lovely.”
Liora’s smile waned. … slight displeasure kids mask when their parents disagree.
“I know it’s costly,” she whispered. “I was just wishing.”
After Liora went to bed, I stared at the dress on her phone at the kitchen table.
The cloth, glow, and pattern evoked familiarity. Mom taught me to sew when I was younger than Liora. We survived by sewing, not because we enjoyed it.
Next morning, I knocked on Liora’s door.
“What if I made that, honey?” In my jammies with a hot cup of coffee, I inquired. “Like…very similar. Together, we may choose and customize the fabric.”
Liora sat up, hair disheveled, eyes dubious. “That seems like a lot of work, Mom. What if things goes wrong?
“We’ll tweak it until perfection!” I sounded confident, surprise myself. “Your grandma always said the best dresses are made with love, not money.”
She offered me a little smile and embrace after pausing.
“Okay! Let’s try!”
The following weeks were routine. We scribbled drawings on fabric samples in the living room and laughed at my crazy ideas.
Liora wanted something elegant and distinctive without being overdone. We chose a shimmering peach fabric with a tight bodice and long, flowing skirt.
I ordered the fabric online using my credit card to avoid pricing worry.
After my second job, I sewed every night. My hands remembered the sewing machine’s beat after years.
Liora sometimes sat close doing homework or chatted.
“I love watching you sew,” she commented one night, looking up from her book. “You seem isolated.”
Because I am! I grinned. “When I create something for you, nothing else exists.”
Three weeks later, the outfit was finished.
Liora attempted it one Sunday, and I nearly cried. Color warmed her cheeks, and silhouette made her look like the calm, graceful young woman she was becoming.
She whispered, “Mom,” spinning in the mirror. It’s incredible. I feel royal.”
“You look like one too,” I informed her. I meant it.
Valeria arrived.
The night before prom. As I finished stitching, I heard high heels clicking up our walkway. I looked through the window and saw Valeria with immaculate hair, a fancy pocketbook, and a treasured white dress bag.
Already tense, I opened the door before she knocked.
“Valeria? This about what?
She grinned, playing with her pearl necklace. “I surprised Liora!”
Liora descended. Hello Valeria. What’s up?
“Come here, darling!” she said sweetly. “I have something to make your night memorable.”
Liora approached carefully, inquisitive. Valeria opened the bag with drama and found it. The exact $1,000 outfit Liora showed me weeks earlier.
“Ta-da!” Valeria beams. You no longer need to wear that mom-stitched item. Go to prom in style!”
I felt it punch me. Liora reacted differently than intended. Still she stood.
“Wow. I showed Mom that dress.”
“I know!” Valeria stated. “Your friend Jessica said you raved about it. She explained that your mother was preparing something for you at home.
She called it “homemade” like cheap.
“I just thought you deserved something better than a homemade project,” Valeria said, glancing at me. “Liora should dress well. No cheap imitation!”
Liora gently stroked the fabric. I know she observed my meticulous recreation of those aspects.
It’s lovely. Thanks.”
Valeria shone. I knew you’d like it! I received the money this morning from Rowan. He wanted you to have everything for prom.”
The remark hurt. Rowan’s cash. The way Rowan arrives.
“That’s very kind,” I whispered.
She said, “Oh, and Liora, I already posted online about how thrilled I am to see you in this dress. My buddies await the photos!”
Liora and I stood silently after she went.
I prevented her from saying “Mom.”
Honey, it’s okay. You decide. Wear what makes you happy.”
She examined both dresses. She said, “I need time to decide,” and went upstairs.
The next day, I helped her get ready without questioning her outfit choice. With shaky hands, I curled her hair, applied lipstick, and clasped her jewelry.
“Thank you, Mom,” she said, staring at me. For everything. For staying up late. To care. For loving me.”
I wanted to cry. “I love you too, sweetheart.”
She descended the stairs 20 minutes later in my dress. The one made with tired hands and a full heart. Custom-made for her.
“You look gorgeous!” My eyes misted.
You sure, Mom?
“More sure than ever!” she responded, showing me her phone. Valeria wrote, “Can’t wait to see my girl in her dream dress tonight!”
“She’ll be shocked,” Liora remarked, hugging me. “Can you take me to school?”
Of course!”
We found Valeria waiting, dressed like a gala, with her two fashionable pals.
“Oh boy,” Liora mumbled.
We parked. After applying lipstick in the mirror, Liora exited the automobile. Valeria noticed her then.
“Liora?? Not the dress I bought you!”
Calm and proud, Liora turned. “Nope! My mom made it!
“What? But why?
I choose items without cost in mind. Love guides my choice. I got everything I needed from Mom.”
“Liora, wait! Your ungratefulness!”
“Good night, Valeria.”
My daughter left like royalty, head high, heels clicking. In the car, my pride grew.
Happy tears and images flooded prom. Liora shone. More importantly, she was confident.
The next morning, my phone lit up. Liora captioned a prom photo:
I couldn’t afford the $1,000 outfit, so my mom sewed one. She worked nights after two jobs. I’ve never felt more gorgeous or adored. Expensive doesn’t always mean better. Love is free.”
Hundreds of likes. Dozens of comments. Stories about handmade outfits and strong moms were shared.
Valeria wrote to Liora two days later:
“I’m charging your mom for the dress since you didn’t wear it. Someone must pay for waste.”
Liora answered with a screenshot: “Love isn’t a dress you return. My mom gave me what mattered. Please return the dress—I didn’t wear it and don’t care.”
Valeria blocked her that day. Rowan called to apologize, but it was too late.
I hung Liora’s prom photo next to my mom’s sewing lesson photo. Every day, I realize that the best things in life are handmade with love.
Soon, Liora will attend college. She’s taking the garment because, “It reminds me that the best things are made with love, not money.”
As for me? Maybe I should sew again.
No one can buy love. However, one thread can be sewn into something eternal.