Melissa insisted on coming.
She said she “wanted to see the disaster in person.”
I even overheard her on the phone earlier saying, “Come early. You need to witness this.”
When we arrived at prom, she was already standing near the back with her phone ready.
But something strange happened.
No one laughed.
People stared, but not the way Melissa expected.
One girl from choir said, “Wait… is your dress denim?”
Another asked, “Where did you buy that?”
A teacher walked up and touched the fabric.
“This is beautiful.”
I still didn’t trust it. I kept waiting for the moment everything would fall apart.
Melissa watched me intensely, like she was waiting too.
Then during the student showcase part of the evening, the principal stepped onto the stage.
He gave the usual speech first.
Then his eyes moved toward the back of the room—toward Melissa.
“Can someone zoom the camera toward that woman in the back row?” he said.
The cameraman adjusted.
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