The door was partly open.
Diane stood in front of the mirror with her back toward me. She appeared to be adjusting something while studying her reflection.
I could hear fabric stretching.
Then came a sharp tug.
A moment later, I heard a small ripping sound.
I almost stepped into the room.
I almost warned her.
But then I remembered every joke at breakfast.
Every cruel observation.
Every moment Dylan had remained silent.
I had promised myself that I would no longer rescue people who treated me badly.
So I quietly stepped away.
Dylan reached the top of the stairs a moment later.
“Have you seen my mother?”
“I think she’s preparing for the family photo.”
He studied my face.
“You seem different.”
“I am.”
“You’re still angry about what Mom said?”
“I’m not angry anymore,” I answered. “I stopped expecting anyone here to stand up for me. It’s surprisingly peaceful.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“She didn’t mean anything by those comments. You know that’s just how she is.”
“I know exactly how she is.”
“Are you angry with me?”
“No. I’m simply done.”
He frowned, but I no longer had the energy to explain something he had chosen not to understand.
Downstairs, everyone was collecting sandals, hats, and sunscreen for the family picture.
“Where’s Mom?” Dylan’s sister asked.
“Preparing to make an entrance,” I replied.
Dylan’s brother-in-law laughed.
“She always does. Her friends are already waiting for the livestream.”
I stopped walking.
“You’re broadcasting the entire photo shoot live?”
“I mentioned that, didn’t I?” he said, holding up his phone. “People love our beach tradition.”
For one last moment, my conscience told me to go upstairs.
I could have warned Diane.
I could have prevented whatever she was planning.
Then I remembered the way she had looked at my breakfast plate.
For Complete Cooking STEPS Please Head On Over To Next Page Or Open button (>) and don’t forget to SHARE with your Facebook friends.I remembered how she had examined my body in front of strangers.
I remembered the laughter.
I picked up my son and kissed his cheek.
I said nothing.
We walked outside toward the beach.
The wind moved through my hair, and for the first time all week, I stood tall.
Behind me, I heard the confident sound of Diane’s heels moving through the hallway.
She emerged from the house with the satisfied expression of someone expecting applause.
Then I saw what she was wearing.
My dress.
The same designer dress she had mocked.
The dress I had bought so I could feel beautiful again.
Diane walked onto the sand and smoothed the fabric over her body.
