In hopes of becoming closer, I agreed to design six bespoke bridesmaid gowns for my stepsister. The supplies cost $400 from my baby fund. She chuckled when I requested for payment after I delivered the clothes as my “gift”. Karma struck at the right time.

My stepsister called me on Tuesday morning as I was holding my four-month-old baby Max.

“Amelia? It’s Jade. I desperately need your help.”

I moved Max to my other arm, cringing as he grasped my hair. “What’s going on?”

“You know I’m getting married next month, right? Well, I’m having an absolute nightmare finding bridesmaid dresses. I’ve been to 12 boutiques, and nothing looks decent on all the six girls. Different body types, you know? Then I remembered… you’re absolutely incredible with that sewing machine. Your work is professional quality.”

“Jade, I’m not really…”

“Could you possibly make them? Please? I mean, you’re home anyway, and I’d pay you really well, of course! You’d literally be saving my entire wedding. I’m running out of options here.”

Jade and I were never close. We had different moms and lifestyles. But she was family. Sort of.

“I haven’t done professional work since Max was born. How much time do I have?”

“Three weeks? I know it’s incredibly tight, but you’re so talented. Remember that dress you made for cousin Lia’s graduation? Everyone was asking who designed it.”

Max was eating my shirt collar when I glanced down. Our baby fund was critically low. Rio, my husband, worked two manufacturing shifts. But the costs piled up. We could benefit from this.

“What’s your budget for materials and labor? Six custom dresses is a lot of work.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that right now. We’ll figure out all the money stuff when they’re finished. I promise I’ll pay you.”

“Alright. I’ll do it.”

On Thursday afternoon, Sarah, the first bridesmaid, came. She was tall and curvaceous with clear opinions on everything.

“I absolutely hate high necklines,” she said, reviewing my drawing. “They make me look like a nun. Can we go much lower?”

I changed the design.

“Perfect. Oh, and I need the waist taken in here, and here. I want it really fitted.”

Friday brought small Emma, who wanted the antithesis of what Sarah desired.

“This neckline is way too low for me,” she frowned at the cloth. “I’ll look inappropriate. Can we make it higher? And the waist needs to be way looser. I don’t like tight clothes.”

“Absolutely. We can modify the pattern.”

“Great. Oh, and can the sleeves be longer? I hate my arms.”

Athletic Jessica arrived Saturday with demands.

“I need a slit up the thigh. 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.”

Each female had strong, opposing views.

Sarah inquired at her second fitting, “Can we make this more flowy around the hips?” “I look huge in anything fitted there.”

“I hate how this color makes my skin look,” Emma said on her third visit. “Are you sure we can’t change it? Maybe something in blue?”

“This fabric feels cheap,” Jessica said, feeling the silk. “It’s not going to photograph well.”

I grinned. “Of course. We can absolutely adjust that.”

Max wept every two hours routinely. One hand nursed him, the other pinned hems. Hunching over the sewing machine till 3 a.m. hurt my back. most evenings.

Rio would find me asleep at the kitchen table with pins and fabric scraps.

“You’re literally killing yourself for this project,” he remarked one night with coffee and concern. “When’s the last time you slept more than two hours straight?”

“It’s almost done,” I murmured between pins.

“Family that hasn’t even paid for materials yet. You spent $400 of our baby money, Amelia.”

He was correct. I bought high-quality silk, professional lining, lace, and all the trimmings using our emergency budget. Jade promised to pay “very soon.”

I supplied six flawless custom-tailored gowns two days before the wedding. All fit like high-end fashion company designs.

When I knocked, Jade was on her sofa, perusing her phone. She did not look up.

“Just hang them somewhere in the spare room,” she murmured, engrossed in her screen.

“Don’t you want to see them first? They turned out really beautiful.”

“I’m sure they’re adequate.”

Adequate? Three weeks of my life, $400 of our baby money, and restless nights were “adequate”?

“So about the payment we discussed…”

That eventually caught her eye. She glanced up with flawlessly groomed eyebrows lifted in apparent perplexity. “Payment? What payment?”

“You said you’d reimburse me for the materials. Plus we never discussed your labor fee. Professional seamstresses charge.”

“Oh honey, you’re actually serious right now? This is obviously your wedding GIFT to me! I mean, what else were you planning to give me? Some generic department store picture frame? A blender from your registry?”

“Jade, I specifically used money meant for Max’s winter clothes. His coat doesn’t fit anymore, and I need that money back…”

“Don’t be so overly dramatic about everything. It’s not like you have an actual job right now anyway. You’re just sitting at home all day. I basically gave you a fun little project to keep you busy.”

Words struck me like freezing water. Staying home all day. Fun little project.

“I haven’t slept more than two hours straight in weeks.”

“Welcome to parenthood! Now, I really need to get ready. Thanks for the dresses!”

I sobbed for 30 minutes in my vehicle. Huge, nasty, shoulder-shaking sobs blocked all windows. When I went home, Rio saw my injured face and grabbed his phone.

“That’s it. I’m calling her right now.”

“No, please don’t. Please, Rio. Don’t make this situation even worse before her wedding.”

“She completely used you, Amelia. She flat-out lied to your face. This is theft.”

“I know what it is. But starting a family war won’t get our money back. It’ll just make everything worse.”

“So what? We just let her walk all over you? Pretend this is okay?”

“For now, yes. I can’t handle any more drama right now.”

Rio tightened his teeth but put down the phone. “This isn’t over.”

“I know. But let’s just get through the wedding first.”

***

Beautiful wedding. Jade looked lovely in her couture dress. Also, my dresses? The reception buzzed around them.

“Who designed these bridesmaid dresses?” I heard.

“They’re absolutely gorgeous,” said another. “So unique and well-fitted.”

Jade’s jaw tightened whenever someone complemented the bridesmaids instead of her. Her clothing was expensive, but everyone was staring at my silk and lace masterpieces, which I had made with bleeding fingers.

Then I caught something that raised my blood pressure dangerously. Near the open bar, Jade whispered to a college buddy secrets.

“Honestly, the dresses were basically free labor. My stepsister’s been desperate for something to occupy her time since she’s stuck at home with the baby. She’d probably sew anything if you asked her nicely enough. Some people are just easy to manipulate!”

Her pal laughed. “That’s genius. Free designer work.”

“I know, right? I should have thought of this sooner.”

Rage blistered my face.

Just 20 minutes before the first dance, Jade approached at my table and grabbed my arm.

“Amelia, I need your help right now. Please, this is an emergency. You have to help me.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Just come with me. Quickly.”

She took me to the women’s toilet, nervously checking for onlookers. Inside, she pulled me into the largest stall and turned around.

Her pricey designer dress split along the back seam. The huge gap revealed her white lace underwear.

“Oh my God!”

“Everyone’s going to see!” Dark mascara streaks filled her carefully applied makeup as tears fell. “The photographers, the videographer, all 200 guests! This is the first dance. It’s supposed to be magical, and I’m going to be completely humiliated. You’re literally the only person who can fix this mess. Please, Amelia. I’ll absolutely die of embarrassment if I have to go out there like this.”

I lingered at the torn seam. Overpriced designer labels hide cheap building work. Irony was obvious to me.

After what seemed like a lifetime, I discreetly took my emergency stitching kit from my handbag. Old professional behaviors persist.

“Stand completely still. Don’t even breathe deeply.”

She cried, “Thank you, thank you,” relieved.

While kneeling on the restroom floor, I used baby wipes to shield my knees from the problematic tile. The delicate repair work was lighted by my phone’s illumination while people laughed and rejoiced outside.

The outfit was gorgeous again after 10 minutes.

Jade exhaled with relief after looking in the mirror. “Thank God. You’re a lifesaver.”

She turned away.

“Wait. You owe me an apology. Not money. Just honesty. Tell people I made those dresses. Tell them what really happened.”

“Amelia, I…”

“One truth, Jade. That’s all I want.”

She departed silently. I thought that was it.

Then Jade stood up during the speech.

“Before we continue, I need 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 for making six custom bridesmaid dresses, then told her it was her gift to me instead. I used money she’d set aside for her baby to buy materials, then acted like she should be grateful for the work.”

Jade took an envelope from her purse “Tonight, when my dress ripped, she was the only person who could save me. And she did. Even after how I treated her.” “She didn’t deserve my selfishness. But she’s getting my gratitude now, along with what I owe her. Plus extra for her baby.”

Walking over, she gave me the packet.

“I’m sorry, Amelia. For everything.”

Applause filled the room, but I just heard my pulse. Not for the money, but because she finally saw me as more than free labor.

Retribution and spectacular confrontations don’t bring justice. Sometimes it includes a needle, thread, and dignity to aid the unworthy. This is what opens their eyes.