My name is April. It’s been six years since my divorce was finalized, and my ex-husband, Mark, didn’t waste any time moving on.

His new wife, Cassandra, speaks as though she’s always leading a business meeting. She treats kindness like something expensive, to be used sparingly and only when someone important is watching.

Our daughter, Lily, is seventeen now. She’s all long legs and big dreams, with that surprising teenage wisdom that sometimes makes me wonder how someone so young can see the world so clearly.

She graduates this spring and leaves for college in the fall. And somewhere between her homework and her part-time job at the local bookstore, she fell in love with a dress.
“Mom, look at this!” she said one evening, holding her phone in front of my face while I was busy chopping vegetables for dinner. “Wouldn’t this be perfect for prom?”

It was a satin gown adorned with delicate beading that sparkled like tiny stars. It was breathtaking.
It was also $1,000.
My stomach sank the way it always does when the numbers don’t add up. I work two jobs just to keep the lights on and the fridge full. There’s never much left over for dreams, especially not thousand-dollar ones.

“It’s gorgeous, sweetheart,” I said, wiping my hands on my apron. “Truly beautiful.”
Her face dimmed just slightly, the way kids’ faces do when they already know the answer but are trying hard to be grown-up about it.
“I know it’s expensive,” she said with a small sigh. “I was just looking.

That night, after Lily went to bed, I sat alone at the kitchen table, staring at the photo on her phone.
The beading. The way the fabric flowed. The shape of the neckline.