After years of putting everyone else first, I finally did something for myself — I sewed a pink wedding dress. My first husband left when my son, Josh, was three, saying he didn’t want to “compete” for attention. From then on, life became survival: double shifts, secondhand clothes, and quiet nights spent sewing to stay hopeful. Over time, that small act of creating became my way to dream again — one stitch at a time.
Then I met Richard, a kind man who made me laugh in a grocery store parking lot. We talked for hours and soon realized it wasn’t too late to start over. When he proposed over dinner, there were no fancy gestures, just warmth and sincerity. Planning our wedding felt like reclaiming joy I’d forgotten I deserved. I knew exactly what I wanted to wear — the soft blush dress I’d always imagined but never dared to make.
