“Amelia, you’re my only hope!” Jade’s dramatic plea made me sigh. My stepsister and I weren’t close, but when she begged me to make six bridesmaid dresses for her upcoming wedding, I reluctantly agreed. She’d pay for materials and my time, she promised. Famous last words.
What followed was three weeks of pure chaos. Between Max’s colicky nights and six demanding bridesmaids, my sewing machine became my prison. Sarah needed boning for support. Emma wanted sleeves to hide her “flabby arms.” Jessica demanded a slit so high it nearly qualified as lingerie. Each fitting brought new complaints while my baby fund dwindled purchasing silk and lace.
Delivery day stung the most. Jade barely glanced at the exquisite dresses before declaring them her “gift.” When I reminded her about our payment agreement, she smirked. “Oh please, you’re just a bored housewife. I did you a favor giving you something to do.” The $400 I’d spent? Consider it her “baby shower present.”
At the wedding, the irony was delicious. While Jade’s designer gown got polite nods, my creations had guests buzzing. “Who made these stunning dresses?” echoed through the hall. I watched Jade’s smile tighten each time someone complimented “her” vision.
Then came the poetic justice. Minutes before her first dance, Jade’s dress split spectacularly down the back. The panic in her eyes as she cornered me in the bathroom was almost worth everything. As I stitched her back together (literally), I set my terms: a public acknowledgment and apology.
To my shock, she delivered. During her speech, Jade confessed everything – the broken promise, the stolen baby money, her cruel comments. The envelope she handed me contained double what she owed. But the real payment? Watching her eat humble pie in front of 200 guests. Sometimes, the best revenge is simply being the bigger person – with perfect stitches.
