When my stepsister asked me to custom-make six bridesmaid dresses, I said yes, hoping it would bring us closer together. I spent $400 of my baby fund on the materials. When I delivered the dresses, she called it my “gift” and laughed when I asked for payment. Karma struck at the perfect moment.
The call from my stepsister came on a Tuesday morning, as I was bouncing my four-month-old son, Max, on my hip.
“Amelia? I’m Jade. I desperately need your help.”
I shifted little Max to my other arm, wincing as he grabbed a handful of my hair. “What’s wrong?”
A woman looking at her phone | Source: Midjourney
“You know I’m getting married next month, right? Well, I’m having a real nightmare looking for bridesmaid dresses. I’ve been to 12 stores, and nothing fits all six of them. Different body types, you know? Then I remembered… you’re absolutely amazing with that sewing machine. Your work is professional quality.”
“Jade, I really don’t…”
“Could you do them? Please? I mean, you’re home anyway, and I’d pay you handsomely, of course! You’d literally be saving my entire wedding. I’m running out of options.”
A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
Jade and I had never been particularly close. We had different mothers and different lives. But she was family. Well, sort of.
“I haven’t done any professional work since Max was born. How much time do I have?”
“Three weeks? I know it’s a very short time, but you’re very talented. Remember the dress you made for Cousin Lia’s graduation? Everyone was asking who designed it.”
I looked at Max, who was now biting my collar. Our baby fund was running dangerously low. My husband, Rio, had been working double shifts at the factory. But the bills were piling up. Maybe this could help us.
A woman holding her baby | Source: Pexels
“What’s your budget for materials and labor? Six custom-made dresses is a lot of work.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that now. We’ll figure out the money when they’re finished. I promise I’ll pay you.”
“Okay. I’ll do it.”
A woman sewing on a machine | Source: Pexels
The first bridesmaid, Sarah, arrived that Thursday afternoon. She was tall and curvy, with very specific ideas about everything.
“I absolutely hate high necklines,” she announced, examining the sketch I’d drawn. “They make me look like a nun. Can we go lower?”
“Of course. What do you think of this?” I adjusted the design.
“Perfect. Oh, and I need the waist to fit here and here. I want it very fitted.”
A mannequin next to a sewing machine | Source: Pexels
On Friday, little Emma arrived, wanting exactly the opposite of what Sarah had asked for.
“This neckline is too low for me,” she said, frowning at the fabric. “I’ll look vulgar. Can we make it higher? And the waist has to be much looser. I don’t like tight clothes.”
“Of course. We can modify the pattern.”
“Great. Oh, and can the sleeves be longer? I hate my arms.”
On Saturday, athletic Jessica arrived, who had her own list of demands.
“I need a thigh high slit. A high one. I want to be able to dance without feeling restricted. And can we add some kind of structure to the bust area? I need support.”
A seamstress measuring her client | Source: Pexels
Each girl had strong and conflicting opinions.
“Can we make it more fluid around the hips?” Sarah asked during her second fitting. “I look huge in anything tight there.”
“I hate how this color looks on my skin,” Emma complained on her third visit. “Are you sure we can’t change it? Maybe something blue?”
“This fabric looks cheap,” Jessica announced bluntly, rubbing the silk between her fingers. “It’s not going to turn out well in the photos.”
I smiled. “Of course. We can adjust it perfectly.”
A sad woman lost in thought | Source: Midjourney
Meanwhile, Max cried every two hours like clockwork. I fed him with one hand while sewing hems with the other. My back creaked from hunched over the sewing machine until three in the morning most nights.
Rio found me passed out at the kitchen table, surrounded by pins and scraps of fabric.
“You’re literally killing yourself on this project,” he said to me one night, bringing me coffee and a worried expression. “When was the last time you slept more than two hours at a time?”
“It’s almost finished,” I muttered under my breath.
“She hasn’t even paid for the materials yet. You spent $400 of our baby money, Amelia.”
She was right. I’d used our carefully saved emergency fund to buy high-quality silk, professional lining, lace, and all the notions. Jade kept promising she’d pay me back “very soon.”
A woman with money in her hand | Source: Pexels
Two days before the wedding, I delivered six absolutely perfect, custom-made dresses. Each one fit her as if designed by a haute couture house.
Jade was lying on the couch, looking at her phone, when I knocked on the door. She didn’t even look up.
“Hang them somewhere in the guest room,” she said, completely absorbed in what was on her screen.
“Don’t you want to see them first? They turned out really nice.”
“I’m sure they’re suitable.”
Adequate? Three weeks of my life, $400 of our baby money, countless sleepless nights—and they were “adequate”?
Fine lace dresses on display | Source: Unsplash
“As for the payment we talked about…”
Finally, he caught her attention. He looked up, his perfectly sculpted eyebrows raised in what looked like genuine confusion. “Payment? What payment?”
“You said you’d reimburse me for the materials. Besides, we never discussed my fees or labor. Professional seamstresses charge.”
“Honey, are you serious? This is obviously your wedding gift to me! What else were you thinking of getting me? A generic picture frame from a department store? A hand mixer?”
A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
“Jade, I specifically used money meant for Max’s winter clothes. His coat doesn’t fit anymore, and I need my money back…”
“Don’t be so dramatic about everything. You don’t have a real job right now anyway. You just sit at home all day. I basically gave you a fun little project to keep you busy.”
The words hit me like ice water. Sitting at home all day. A fun little project.
“I haven’t slept more than two hours at a time for weeks.”
“Welcome to parenthood! Now I have to get ready. Thanks for the dresses.”
A woman shrugging her shoulders | Source: Midjourney
I cried in the car for 30 minutes. Big, ugly sobs that shook my shoulders and fogged up all the windows. When I finally got home, Rio took one look at my swollen face and immediately grabbed his phone.
“That’s it. I’ll call her right now.”
“No, please don’t. Please, Rio. Don’t make things worse before her wedding.”
“He completely fooled you, Amelia. He lied to your face. This is theft.”
“I know what it’s like. But starting a family war won’t get us our money back. It’ll only make things worse.”
“So what? We let him walk all over you? We pretend it’s okay?”
“For now, yes. I can’t take any more drama right now.”
An Angry Man | Source: Midjourney
Rio clenched his jaw, but hung up the phone. “This isn’t over.”
“I know. But let’s get the wedding over with first.”
***
The wedding was beautiful. Jade looked stunning in her designer dress. And my dresses? They were the talk of the banquet.
“Who designed these bridesmaid dresses?” I heard someone ask.
“They’re absolutely gorgeous,” another guest exclaimed. “So unique and well-fitting.”
Two stunned women | Source: Freepik
I saw Jade’s jaw clench every time someone praised the bridesmaids instead of her. She’d spent a fortune on her dress, but all eyes were drawn to the silk and lace creations I’d sewn with bleeding fingers.
Then I noticed something that made my blood pressure rise to dangerous levels. Jade was whispering petulantly to one of her college friends near the open bar.
“Honestly, the dresses were basically free labor. My stepsister was desperate for something to occupy her time since she was staying home with the baby. She’d probably sew anything if you asked her nicely. Some people are easy to manipulate.”
A bride in front of her guests | Source: Midjourney
Her friend laughed. “That’s great. Free design work.”
“I know, right? I should have thought of that before.”
My face burned with rage.
Then, 20 minutes before the first dance was scheduled to start, Jade suddenly appeared at my table and grabbed my arm.
“Amelia, I need your help right now. Please, it’s an emergency. You have to help me.”
“What’s going on?”
“Come with me. Quickly.”
A startled bride | Source: Midjourney
She dragged me toward the women’s restroom, frantically looking around to make sure no one was watching her. Once inside, she pulled me toward the largest stall and turned around.
Her expensive designer dress had split open all the way down the back seam. Her white lace underwear was clearly visible through the gap.
“My God!”
“Everyone’s going to see it.” Tears streamed down her perfectly applied makeup, creating dark mascara trails. “The photographers, the guy shooting the video, the 200 guests! It’s the first dance. It’s supposed to be magical, and I’m going to feel completely humiliated. You’re literally the only person who can fix this mess. Please, Amelia. I’ll die of embarrassment if I have to go out like this.”
A woman helps a bride with her dress | Source: Pexels
I stared at the ripped seam for a long moment. A cheap stitching job hidden under an overpriced designer label. I didn’t miss the irony.
After what seemed like an eternity, I quietly took the emergency sewing kit out of my bag. Old professional habits die hard.
“Stay completely still. Don’t even take a deep breath.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she sobbed in relief.
An excited bride | Source: Midjourney
I knelt on the bathroom floor, using baby wipes to protect my knees from the questionable tile. My phone’s flashlight illuminated the delicate repair work while guests laughed and celebrated outside.
Ten minutes later, the dress was perfect again.
Jade looked at herself in the mirror and sighed in relief. “Thank God. You saved my life.”
He turned to leave.
“Wait. You owe me an apology. Not money. Just honesty. Tell people I made those dresses. Tell them what really happened.”
A woman with her arms crossed while pointing | Source: Pexels
“Amelia, I…”
“The truth, Jade. It’s all I want.”
He left without a word. I assumed it was over.
But then, during the speech, Jade stood up.
“Before we continue, I have to say something. An apology, actually.”
My heart stopped.
“I treated my stepsister like she was disposable. Like her talent meant nothing. I promised to pay her to custom make six bridesmaid dresses, but then I told her it was her gift to me. She used the money she’d set aside for her baby to buy materials, and then I acted like I should be grateful for taking that job.”
“Tonight, when my dress ripped, she was the only person who could save me. And she did. Even after how I treated her,” Jade reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope. “She didn’t deserve my selfishness. But now she receives my gratitude, along with what I owe her. Plus an extra for her baby.”
A bride holding a microphone | Source: Midjourney
He came over and handed me the envelope.
“I’m sorry, Amelia. For everything.”
The room erupted in applause, but all I could hear was my heartbeat. Not because of the money, but because I’d finally seen myself as more than just unpaid labor.
Justice doesn’t come with dramatic confrontations or revenge plots. Sometimes, it comes with a needle, thread, and enough dignity to help someone who doesn’t deserve it. And that’s exactly what opens their eyes.
A sewing machine | Source: Unsplash
This work is inspired by real events and people, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or to real events is purely coincidental and not the author’s intention.
The author and publisher do not guarantee the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters, and are not responsible for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and the opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher