I didn’t push.
But the curiosity was killing me.
Four months before the wedding, Lucas started acting sneaky.
Then, three weeks before the wedding, he appeared in my bedroom doorway holding a massive garment bag.
“Mom,” he said, voice cracking, “I made you something.”
My heart started racing. “Sweetie, what…”
“Just open it. Please.”
I unzipped the bag.
And then I couldn’t breathe.
Inside was a wedding dress.
Not a costume. Not a craft project.
A WEDDING DRESS.
“Mom,” he said, voice cracking, “I made you something.”
Crocheted entirely by hand, the soft ivory yarn was shaped into the most delicate patterns I’d ever seen.
The bodice had tiny, intricate flowers that must’ve taken weeks.
The skirt flowed like real fabric, with layers that caught the light differently at every angle.
The sleeves were semi-sheer, elegant, and impossibly beautiful.
“You made this?” I whispered, touching it like it might disappear.
Lucas nodded eagerly.
“I learned new stitches from YouTube. I watched, like, hundreds of videos. I used all my allowance for the yarn, the good kind that doesn’t scratch. Used your old dress for the measurements.”
“You made this?” I whispered, touching it like it might disappear.
He took a breath.
“I wanted you to have something special, Mom. Something nobody else in the world has.”
His voice cracked on the last word.
I pulled him into my arms and sobbed into his hair.
“Do you like it?” he asked, muffled against my shoulder.
“Like it? Baby, I love it. I’m wearing this on my wedding day. No question. And I’m so proud of you I could burst.”
“I wanted you to have something special, Mom.
Something nobody else in the world has.”
Michael found us like that, both crying and grinning.
When I showed him the dress, he had to sit down.
His eyes went glassy.
“Buddy,” he said, voice heavy, “this is incredible. Your mom’s going to be the most beautiful bride anyone’s ever seen.”
Lucas beamed.
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
