It started with a compliment: “You’re so lucky to have that dress,” Kayla said. I didn’t think much of it — until the next morning, when the garment bag was gone.
The dress wasn’t just fabric. It was my mom’s wedding gown — drenched in memories, literally and figuratively. I first saw the photo of her wearing it in the rain when I was five. “The rainbow came after,” she said with a smile. Before she passed away, she had it altered for me — modernized but still full of her essence.
I kept it untouched for six years. Then came Kayla — my sister-in-law, dramatic, bold, and boundary-less. She saw the dress, admired it, and said she’d kill to wear it. I made it clear it was for my wedding only.
She took it anyway.
At first, I thought I misplaced it. Then she texted: “Don’t freak out! I just borrowed it for the gala.” When I saw the Instagram post, my heart shattered — she’d worn my mom’s dress. Torn strap. Red wine stain. Captioned with a smirk: “Vintage with a twist 😉”
I called her. “You destroyed it.”
“It’s just fabric,” she said. “You’re being dramatic.”
I ran to the seamstress — the same woman my mom had chosen. Her verdict? “The lace your mom left — it’s shredded. It’s not repairable.”
Logan, my fiancé and Kayla’s brother, was furious. Later, he confronted her. Through the phone, I heard her scream: “You always loved me more! You’re marrying the wrong girl!”
That’s when I understood — it wasn’t just about the dress. She couldn’t stand losing her hold over Logan. She didn’t want him to move on, especially not with me.
But Logan made a choice — us.
He spent days finding vintage lace artists, experts, anyone who could help. When the restored dress was finally ready, I cried. Every detail, lovingly recreated. “She’s in here,” the seamstress said, smoothing the bodice. And she was.
On our wedding day, the rain came — then stopped. A rainbow appeared as I walked down the aisle.
Then Kayla showed up.
Disheveled, desperate, screaming from the back. Security handled it. Logan didn’t even look at her. “She’s not getting in,” he whispered. “This is your day.”
We said our vows under that rainbow. Every step I took, I felt my mother’s presence. Her strength. Her love.
Later, someone asked where I found the dress. I smiled. “It came from a dream.”
Kayla thought ruining the dress would ruin everything. But she underestimated love — and resilience. She tried to steal the spotlight but ended up irrelevant.
I walked down that aisle in the gown she tried to destroy — and owned it. My mom’s memory wrapped around me like armor. Logan, no longer bound by guilt, stood beside me, fully present.
“You were always the rainbow,” he whispered during our first dance.
Kayla lost the one thing she thought she controlled: Logan.
And I gained everything.