“You really think so?”
“I’ve never been more certain of anything.”
She bought the dress.
Then came shoes.
Jewelry.
Hair appointments.
Nail colors.
Flowers.
Every evening she stood in front of the mirror imagining how the night would unfold.
Sometimes she’d stop and look at me.
“Do you think Dad would’ve liked this dress?”
The question always hurt.
“I think,” I answered carefully, “he would’ve been amazed by the incredible young woman you’ve become.”
She nodded, though I could tell she still wondered about the father she’d never known.
Over the years, I had answered her questions as gently as I could.
I told her he had left before she was born.
That he hadn’t wanted responsibility.
That sometimes adults made painful choices.
It wasn’t the complete story.
But it was the only version I’d ever allowed myself to tell.
Prom night finally arrived.
Ryan showed up exactly at six.
He stood on our porch holding a bouquet of white roses.
He wore a perfectly tailored tuxedo.
His manners were impeccable.
“Mrs. Carter,” he said politely, extending his hand.
“It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“You too, Ryan.”
When Iris walked downstairs, Ryan simply stared.
“You…”
He smiled.
“You look incredible.”
Iris blushed.
“So do you.”
I snapped what felt like hundreds of pictures.
Them smiling.
Holding hands.
Laughing.
Ryan gently placing the corsage on Iris’s wrist.
For the first time in years, I felt completely at peace.
Maybe life really was giving my daughter the happiness she’d earned.
As they climbed into Ryan’s car, he looked back.
“I’ll have her home before midnight.”
“I know you will.”
They drove away.
I stood on the porch long after the taillights disappeared.
The house suddenly felt painfully quiet.
I cleaned the kitchen.
Folded laundry.
Watched television without paying attention.
Every few minutes I checked my phone.
Around nine-thirty it buzzed.
MOM. YOU ARE NEVER GOING TO BELIEVE WHAT JUST HAPPENED.
I smiled.
What happened?
A minute later another message arrived.
I’LL TELL YOU WHEN I GET HOME. IT’S CRAZY.
I laughed to myself.
Probably prom king.
Or someone had fallen into the fountain.
Teenagers always described everything as crazy.
I typed back:
Okay. Have fun. Be safe. Love you.
She never answered.
As the hours passed, an uneasy feeling settled over me.
Midnight came.
No car.
No text.
No call.
I walked to the front window.
