When Helen received a white maxi dress in the mail from her soon-to-be daughter-in-law
When Helen received a white maxi dress in the mail from her soon-to-be daughter-in-law, Priya, she was immediately suspicious. Their relationship had been strained from the beginning, and the timing — just days before the wedding — felt pointed. But what unfolded at the ceremony left Helen speechless, and changed everything between them.
I didn’t need to read the note to know who the neatly wrapped package on my porch was from. Only Priya would send something so extravagantly presented. With a mix of skepticism and intrigue, I tore into the wrapping to find a long, elegant white maxi dress inside. A small card fluttered to the floor:
“Please wear this to the wedding. Love, Priya.”
“Love, Priya,” I muttered under my breath. That had to be sarcasm. There was nothing “loving” about our relationship.
When she first started dating my son, Andrew, I found Priya enchanting — smart, self-assured, and modern. But it didn’t take long before our differences began to clash. Where I valued tradition and family rituals, Priya preferred independence and a more progressive approach to life. Andrew, a classic mama’s boy, had started slipping away from my influence.
Then came the wedding planning. Not only was I excluded from most of it, but I heard about the venue from a neighbor. So, receiving a white dress — a white dress, of all things — felt like salt in the wound. I immediately called my best friend, Carol.
“You are not going to believe this,” I said the moment she picked up. “Priya sent me a dress. A white one. To wear to her wedding!”
“She did what?” Carol gasped. “Isn’t that... I mean, isn’t she supposed to be wearing white?”
“Exactly!” I was pacing now. “It feels like a trap. Like she’s setting me up to embarrass myself.”
Carol hesitated. “It might be a misunderstanding, Helen. Maybe you should talk to her.”
The thought made my stomach churn. Talking to Priya one-on-one wasn’t exactly on my wishlist, but something about Carol’s tone made me pause. Maybe, just maybe, it was worth clearing the air.
The next day, I met Priya at a quiet little café near her apartment. She was calm, as always, and greeted me with a polite smile.
“You didn’t like the dress?” she asked gently, reading the doubt on my face.
“It’s beautiful,” I admitted. “But I don’t understand. Why would you want me to wear white to your wedding?”
Priya leaned forward, her expression soft. “Helen, this wedding isn’t just about Andrew and me. It’s about two families becoming one. I wanted to honor you. In my culture, white has a special meaning — purity, new beginnings. That’s why I picked the dress. I want you to feel included.”
I studied her face, looking for a trace of insincerity. But all I saw was honesty. Maybe... just maybe... she meant it.
On the morning of the wedding, I was a bundle of nerves. I slipped into the white dress, unsure if I looked dignified or like a fool. Every worst-case scenario flashed through my mind — whispers from guests, side-eyes, judgment.
By the time I pulled up to the venue, my heart was pounding. I forced myself out of the car, dreading what I’d find on the other side of the doors.... (continue reading in the 1st comment)