When I found my dream prom dress destroyed by black paint, I thought everything was lost. Little did I know, karma was waiting in the wings, ready to turn the cruel plan upside down and ruin the day some people tried to make perfect at my expense.

I was 18, a senior in high school, and prom was all I could think about. I was supposed to dance with my friends, wear the perfect dress, and make memories. After months of saving, I finally bought the most beautiful baby blue gown. It was everything I’d ever dreamed of — elegant and classic, making me feel like a princess.

My dad was just as excited as I was. The only bitter moment was that my mom wouldn’t be there to see me. She had passed away years ago, and since then, it had just been me, Dad, and my stepmom, Carol.

Now, Carol was… well, she was complicated. She married my dad when I was 14, and let’s just say we weren’t close. We didn’t argue much, but we didn’t talk much either. She always seemed to have other things on her mind, especially when it came to her daughter, Julia. She was older, already out of the house when Carol married my dad. We barely spoke, but have always been civil with each other. So, I never expected what happened next.

The morning of prom, I jumped out of bed, my heart racing with excitement. My hair appointment was booked, my makeup was all set, and my dress was waiting in the closet. It was going to be perfect. I smiled and headed to my closet to take one last look at my dress before getting ready. I just wanted to admire it, you know? But when I opened the closet door, my heart stopped. “No… no, no, no!” I gasped.

My beautiful baby blue gown was destroyed. Black paint was splattered all over it, thick streaks of paint covering the fabric. I just stood there, frozen. My mind couldn’t process what I was seeing. Tears welled up in my eyes. “What… how…?” I whispered. My hands were shaking as I touched the ruined fabric. It was beyond repair. Everything I had dreamed about for months was gone in an instant. My dream dress. My perfect night.

I ran downstairs, tears streaming down my face. “Carol!” I screamed. “Carol, someone ruined my dress! It’s—it’s covered in paint!” Carol was sitting in the kitchen, sipping her coffee like nothing was wrong. She didn’t even look surprised when I told her what had happened. She glanced up at me with a bored expression.

“Oh no,” she said, her voice calm and cold. “That’s terrible. Maybe you should be more careful with your things and where you put them.” I stared at her, my chest tight. “What do you mean, ‘more careful’?” I demanded. “How could this even happen? It was in my closet!”