My stepsister, Brianna.
Brianna is Mike’s daughter from his first marriage, and she lives as if the world revolves around her. Perfect hair, expensive beauty routines, a social media account dedicated to her outfits, and an ego to match.
She’s 17, and we’ve never gotten along, mainly because she treats my mom like she’s invisible.
When she heard my plan, she nearly choked on her coffee.
“What? You’re taking YOUR MOTHER to PROM? That’s pathetic, Adam.”
I didn’t answer. I just walked away.
Days later, he cornered me again, grinning maliciously.
“Seriously, what’s she going to wear? Something outdated from her closet? It’s going to be embarrassing for both of us.”
I stayed silent and kept walking.
But he didn’t stop.
The week before prom, he insisted even more.
“Prom is for teenagers, not for middle-aged women trying to relive their youth. It’s sad.”
My fists clenched. But instead of exploding, I chuckled softly.
Because I already had a plan.
“Thanks for your input, Brianna. Very helpful.”
When prom day arrived, my mom looked stunning.
Nothing over the top. Nothing inappropriate. Just pure elegance.
She wore a dress that accentuated her eyes, her hair was styled in soft waves, and she exuded a joy I hadn’t seen in years.
Seeing her that night almost made me cry.
Even so, I was nervous.
“What if people judge us? What if your friends think it’s weird? What if I ruin your night?”
I took her hand.
“Mom, you built my whole life from scratch. There’s no way you’re going to ruin anything.”
