My mom always found a way to ruin my happiest moments. This time was no different. However, I made sure that she never did it again with my revenge.
Five years ago, I was beyond excited for my senior prom. I had been looking forward to it for months, imagining the perfect night with my friends, dancing and celebrating the end of high school. I never imagined my own mother would ruin the experience for me.
Two women having conflict at home | Source: Pexels
I went shopping for a dress for my senior prom with my best friend. It was a sunny morning and we were both giddy and could not contain our excitement while getting ready.
Two women laughing together | Source: Pexels
We stepped into the store and looked around, seeing beautiful dresses in every corner. However, one pink gown caught our attention and I instantly liked it.
It was a gorgeous mermaid-style dress and I bought it right away. When I got home, I showed my mom the dress without actually putting it on. She didn’t have any noticeable reaction.
A woman in a pink dress | Source: Pexels
The skirt needed hemming, so my mother said she would take me to her friend who does tailoring. I thought she was being supportive. Little did I know, that was the calm before the storm.
After giving my dress to her friend, she said she was ashamed to be seen with me in the dress and that I had shamed her in front of her friend. I was really upset.
A depressed woman at home | Source: Pexels
I was flabbergasted by my mother’s comments and completely blindsided by her offer to help with the dress. It did not make sense that she offered to have it fixed while knowing she did not like it.
A few days later, I took the dress and simply burst into tears. She had REMADE it into a BAG, covering the upper and lower parts. In only an hour, mad as hell, I was realizing my revenge plan.
A sad woman crying | Source: Pexels
On prom day, when I went out of the house for photos, my mom almost FAINTED as I took her favorite dress and remade it into the same dress I bought for the prom.
“Grace, what have you done?! That’s my favorite dress!” my mom gasped.
“Oh, you mean the one you ruined? I thought I’d return the favor,” I said calmly.
“How dare you! That dress was expensive and important to me!” she exclaimed, furious.
“Just like my prom dress was important to me. But you didn’t care about that, did you?” I replied firmly.
Mother and daughter arguing in the bedroom | Source: Pexels
“I was just trying to protect you. That dress was inappropriate,” she tried to compose herself.
“No, you were trying to control me. You were ashamed of me for no reason. This is my prom, and I deserve to feel beautiful and confident. If you can’t support that, then you need to deal with the consequences,” I shook my head.
“I didn’t realize how much it meant to you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” she said, looking defeated.
Mother and daughter arguing | Source: Pexels
“It’s too late now, Mom. I hope you understand how it feels to have something you care about destroyed,” I softened slightly.
“I do, and I regret it. But you didn’t have to ruin my dress to make your point,” she sighed.
“Maybe not. But now you know what it feels like. Let’s just hope we can move past this,” I took a deep breath.
“I do want to move past this. I’m really sorry, and I want to make it up to you,” she said tearfully.
“We’ll see. For now, I have a prom to attend. I hope you understand why I did what I did,” I hugged her briefly.
“I do. Go have a wonderful time at your prom. You look beautiful,” she nodded.
A woman in a red dress | Source: Pexels
With that, I left the house, feeling a mixture of vindication and sadness. I knew that our relationship would need time to heal, but I felt empowered for standing up for myself. As I arrived at prom, I felt confident and beautiful in my dress, ready to enjoy the night with my friends.
The evening was a success as I made great memories. We danced, laughed, and took countless photos. However, when it all ended and I had to go back home, it was back to reality. I knew that my relationship with my mom needed mending.
Teenagers during senior prom night | Source: Pexels
From that day onwards, our relationship was strained. We spoke less often, and when we did, it was usually brief and tense. My mom seemed to avoid the topic of the prom entirely.
It was as if she was trying to pretend it never happened. I, on the other hand, couldn’t forget it. The hurt and betrayal lingered. Over time, we started to have more open conversations about our feelings. One evening, a few months after prom, I sat down with her.
A mother comforting her daughter | Source: Pexels
“Mom, we need to talk about what happened,” I began, feeling a lump in my throat.
She looked at me, her eyes softening. “I know, Grace. I’ve been thinking about it too. I’m really sorry for what I did. It was wrong.”
“I appreciate that, but it’s not just about the dress. It’s about how you made me feel. Like my choices didn’t matter,” I said, holding back tears.
A mother standing behind her daughter | Source: Pexels
She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. “I was wrong to try and control you. I thought I was protecting you, but I see now that I was just being selfish. I’m so sorry, Grace.”
“I need you to trust me and support me,” I replied, reaching out to hold her hand.
“I will. I promise. I just want us to move past this and be close again,” she said, squeezing my hand.
Mother and daughter holding hands | Source: Pexels
It wasn’t an instant fix, but it was a start. We both made an effort to meet each other halfway to understand one another a bit more and that made all the difference, which made us happy.
Slowly, our relationship began to heal. We learned to communicate better and respect each other’s boundaries. It took time, patience, and a lot of honest conversations, but eventually, we rebuilt the trust that had been broken.
A mother and her daughter embracing each other | Source: Pexels
Now, looking back, I realize that that incident was a turning point for both of us. It taught us the importance of respect and understanding in our relationship. We both learned valuable lessons and although it was a painful experience, it brought us closer in the end.
A mother and daughter hugging | Source: Pexels
My Parents Refused to Attend My Wedding Because My Fiancé Was Poor — We Met 10 Years Later and They Begged to Build a Relationship
When Emma fell in love with a humble teacher, her parents gave her an ultimatum: choose him or them. On her wedding day, their seats sat empty, but her grandpa stood by her side. At his funeral ten years later, her estranged parents begged for her forgiveness, but not for the reasons she thought.
Growing up in our pristine suburban home, my parents had a running joke about how we’d all live in a grand mansion someday.
A mansion with a formal garden | Source: Pexels
“One day, Emma,” my father would say, adjusting his already-perfect tie in the hallway mirror, “we’ll live in a house so big you’ll need a map to find the kitchen.”
My mother would laugh, the sound like crystal glasses clinking, adding, “And you’ll marry someone who’ll help us get there, won’t you, sweetheart?”
“A prince!” I’d reply when I was a kid. “With a big castle! And lots of horses!”
An excited girl with her hands in the air | Source: Midjourney
I thought it was funny throughout my early childhood. I even used to daydream about my future castle. But by high school, I understood there was nothing funny about it at all.
My parents were relentless. Every decision they made, every friendship they had, and every activity we attended had to advance our social climbing somehow.
Mom vetted my friends based on their parents’ tax brackets! I don’t think I’ll ever forget how she sneered when I brought my classmate Bianca over to work on our science project.
A woman with a disapproving look | Source: Midjourney
“You aren’t friends with that girl, are you?” Mom asked at dinner that evening.
I shrugged. “Bianca’s nice, and she’s one of the top students in class.”
“She’s not good enough for you,” Mom replied sternly. “Those cheap clothes and awful haircut says it all, top student or not.”
A strange feeling churned in my gut when Mom said those words. That was when I truly realized how narrow-minded my parents were.
A teen girl seated at a dinner table | Source: Midjourney
Dad was no better. He networked at my school events instead of watching my performances.
I still remember my leading role in “The Glass Menagerie” senior year. Father spent the entire show in the lobby discussing investment opportunities with the parents of my cast mates.
“Did you see me at all?” I asked him afterward, still in my costume.
“Of course, princess,” he replied, not looking up from his phone. “I heard the applause. Must have been wonderful.”
A man using his phone while his sad teen daughter stands nearby | Source: Midjourney
Then came college and Liam.
“A teacher?” My mother had practically choked on her champagne when I told her about him. “Emma, darling, teachers are wonderful people, but they’re not exactly… well, you know.”
She glanced around our country club as if someone might overhear this shameful secret.
I knew exactly what she meant, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t care.
A woman with a determined look on her face | Source: Midjourney
Liam was different from anyone I’d ever met. While other guys tried to impress me with their parents’ vacation homes or luxury cars, he talked about becoming a teacher with such passion it made his whole face light up.
When he proposed, it wasn’t with an enormous diamond in a fancy restaurant. It was with his grandmother’s ring in the community garden where we’d had our first date.
The stone was small but caught the sunlight in a way that made it look like it held all the stars in the universe.
A diamond ring sparkling in sunlight | Source: Midjourney
“I can’t give you a mansion,” he said, his voice shaking slightly, “but I promise to give you a home filled with love.”
I said yes before he could even finish asking.
My parents’ response was arctic.
“Not that teacher!” my father had spat as though he was talking about some criminal. “How will he provide for you? For us? You’ll be throwing your future in the trash if you marry him!”
A man gesturing angrily during dinner | Source: Midjourney
“He already provides everything I need,” I told them. “He’s kind, he makes me laugh, and he—”
“I forbid it!” Dad interrupted. “If you go through with this, if you marry that teacher…”
“Then we’ll cut you off,” Mom finished, her voice sharp as glass. “Call him right this minute and break up with him, or we’ll disown you. We didn’t invest so much time and effort in your upbringing only for you to throw it all away.”
My jaw dropped.
A woman gasping in disbelief during dinner | Source: Midjourney
“You can’t be serious,” I whispered.
“It’s him or us,” Dad replied, his face like stone.
I’d known my parents might have a hard time accepting Liam, but this? I couldn’t believe they’d make such an impossible demand.
But the hard look on their faces made it clear their decision was final. I knew I had to make a choice, and it broke my heart.
A sad but determined woman | Source: Midjourney
“I’ll send you an invitation to the wedding in case you change your minds,” I said before standing up and walking away.
The wedding was small, intimate, and perfect, except for the two empty seats in the front row. But Grandpa was there, and somehow his presence filled the whole church.
He walked me down the aisle, his steps slow but steady, and his grip on my arm was firm and reassuring.
“You picked the right kind of wealth, kid,” he whispered as he hugged me. “Love matters more than money. Always has, always will.”
A bride hugging her grandfather | Source: Midjourney
Life wasn’t easy after that. Liam’s teaching salary and the money I made from freelancing brought in just enough to make ends meet.
We lived in a tiny apartment where the heat only worked when it felt like it, and the neighbor’s music became our constant soundtrack. But our home was full of laughter, especially after Sophie was born.
She inherited her father’s gentle heart and my stubborn streak, a combination that made me proud daily.
A child looking at a book | Source: Pexels
Grandpa was our rock through it all.
He’d show up with groceries when things were tight, though we never told him about our struggles. He’d sit for hours with Sophie, teaching her card tricks and telling her stories about his childhood.
“You know what real wealth is, sweetheart?” I overheard him telling her once. “It’s having people who love you for exactly who you are.”
An elderly man telling stories to his great-granddaughter | Source: Midjourney
“Like how Mommy and Daddy love me?” Sophie had asked.
“Exactly like that,” he’d replied, his eyes meeting mine across the room. “That’s the kind of rich that lasts forever.”
When Grandpa passed away, it felt like losing my foundation. Standing at his funeral, holding Liam’s hand while Sophie pressed against his leg, I could barely get through the eulogy.
Then I saw them — my parents. They were older but still immaculate and approached me with tears during the reception.
A mature couple at a funeral reception | Source: Midjourney
Mother’s pearls caught the light from the stained glass windows, and Father’s suit probably cost more than our monthly rent.
“Emma, darling,” my mother said, reaching for my hands. “We’ve been such fools. Please, can we try to rebuild our relationship?”
For a moment, my heart soared. Ten years of pain seemed ready to heal until Aunt Claire marched up and pulled me aside.
A woman with a grim look | Source: Midjourney
“Emma, honey, don’t fall for it,” she said, her voice low and urgent as she guided me toward a quiet corner, “your parents’ apology isn’t genuine. They’re only doing it because of the condition in your Grandpa’s will.”
“What condition?”
Aunt Claire pursed her lips. “Dad spent years trying to convince your parents to reconcile with you. They always refused, so he put it in his will. The only way your mom will get her inheritance is if they apologize and make peace with you, otherwise, her share of the money will go to charity.”
A woman whispering to someone | Source: Midjourney
The truth hit me like a physical blow. Even now, after all these years, it is still about the money. The tears in their eyes weren’t for me, or Grandpa. They were for their bank account.
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