the lace to ensure it was perfect. It was the last thing her mother had helped her choose before she passed away.
I remembered the way Natalia’s voice softened when she told me about the fitting. Her mother, weakened by illness, had wept when she saw Natalia in that specific dress, whispering that it was exactly how she had always pictured her daughter on her wedding day. That dress was a bridge to a woman who could no longer be there to walk her down the aisle. And now, it
