But when I opened the closet door, my heart stopped.
At first, I couldn’t process what I was seeing. The garment bag was unzipped, and there was my dress, but it looked… wrong.
As I reached out with trembling hands to touch the fabric, I saw the huge, ugly burn marks scarring the delicate lace and beading.
My legs gave out, and I sank to the floor, a strangled sob escaping my throat. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a nightmare. I fumbled for my phone, dialing my mom’s number through a haze of tears.
“Mom,” I choked out when she answered. “The dress… it’s ruined.”
“What? Jenna, slow down. What happened?”
I tried to explain between sobs, but nothing made sense. How could this have happened? The dress had been fine yesterday.
“I’m coming over,” Mom said firmly. “Just sit tight, honey. We’ll figure this out.”
I hung up and immediately called Adam. He answered on the second ring, his voice cheerful. “Hey, babe! What’s up?”
“Adam,” I said, my voice breaking. “Something terrible has happened.”
As I explained about the dress, his shock was apparent even through the phone.
