I didn’t know that moment would be the last piece of peace I’d get from my family.

Dinner was awkward but quiet. My father barely spoke. My mother fussed over my brother. Kyle teased me once—something small, something stupid—but I let it go. I told myself I’d let a lot of things go for the sake of one peaceful weekend. By nine, I went to bed early. I needed the rest, and weddings start early in towns like ours.

David called to say goodnight, and for a moment, everything felt safe again. I fell asleep believing the morning would bring joy.

But somewhere around 2:00 in the morning, I woke to the soft, unmistakable sound of whispers. My bedroom door clicked shut. Footsteps padded down the hallway. At first, I thought I dreamed it, but then I noticed something wrong. The faint smell of fabric dust. The air felt unsettled, like it had been disturbed. I swung my legs out of bed, turned on the lamp, and looked toward the dresses. The bags weren’t hanging evenly anymore. One looked lopsided. Another wasn’t zipped. My chest tightened. I stood up, crossed the room, and opened the first zipper. The dress inside wasn’t just damaged. It was annihilated.