Attic's Reflection

As Mark entered the attic, he was struck by its unexpected size—larger than the cramped apartment he'd left behind in his previous life. Dust hung thick in the air, and a faint scent of aged wood lingered, mixed with traces of memories tucked away in boxes and bins.

He looked around, taking in the assortment of things Debbie had stored over the years. The first thing to catch his attention was a mounted deer head wearing a cap with a maple leaf logo and a small sign around its neck reading, "The Concanadian."

It seemed like a joke, maybe a nod to some Canadian humor, though Mark didn't quite get it, having never traveled much beyond his home country in his previous life, but it seemed to hint at Debbie's quirky sense of humor.

Debbie, who was busy opening one of the attic windows, glanced back and said apologetically, "Sorry, guys—haven't cleaned up here in a while. It's a bit dusty."

Diane swiped a finger along a dusty shelf lined with sealed boxes and remarked with a smirk, "Yeah, Deb, this place feels straight out of a horror movie—like where they'd stash a cursed doll or something."

On the far side of the attic, James tapped a black, modern-looking chest and grinned, "Maybe Aunt Diane's right. If this attic's haunted, I bet this is where the creepy doll would be hiding."

Diane chuckled, casting Debbie a playful look. "I didn't know you were into collecting haunted dolls, Deb."

Debbie rolled her eyes at their antics and shot back, "Come on, guys. Do I look like the type? Besides, Diane, you know how I feel about those things."

"Yeah, yeah, just kidding," Diane said, brushing it off. Her eyes were suddenly drawn to a white garment hanging in the corner. Sunlight filtered through the window, illuminating the dress and giving it a magical, almost ethereal glow.

Seeing Diane's gaze, Debbie walked over, unwrapping the plastic covering from the dress. As she did, it was revealed in full: a stunning, flowing silk gown, its delicate lace and intricate embroidery catching the light in all the right ways. Diane's breath caught, and she took a step closer, almost reverent.

Diane approached it slowly, captivated by the fitted bodice that seemed to mold to a form she could only dream of. The A-line skirt cascaded to the floor, the fabric swirling with an elegance that felt both timeless and breathtaking. She imagined how it would move, each step creating a soft rustle, a melody of fabric that echoed her own longing.

The sheer veil, dotted with tiny pearls, added an ethereal quality, making her wonder how it would feel to wear something so enchanting. A wave of longing washed over her—this dress was more than just fabric; it was the love she longs for, a glimpse into a future she yearned for. She found herself imagining the day, standing in this gown, enveloped in joy, as if the very design had woven her dreams into its threads.

Debbie who saw that Diane was looking at it, smiled and walked to the dress that Diane was looking as unwrap the plastic that she used to cover it from the dust. As Debbie slowly unwraps it, the design of the dress was now on full view, the dress

"It's beautiful," Diane murmured, her voice filled with wonder.

"Indeed," Debbie replied softly, her eyes distant as memories flooded her mind. She was transported back to a moment long ago, standing before a mirror, wearing this very dress. Her father had bought it for her.

She remembered tracing the fabric with her fingers, admiring its softness. Yet, her eyes in the mirror reflected a shadow of sadness. It had been a difficult time, and though the dress fit her perfectly, her heart had felt heavier than ever.

The door had creaked open, and her father had walked in, his once dark hair now peppered with gray and his face lined with worry. Debbie remembered thinking how he'd aged since her pregnancy, the weight of supporting her and Diane alone taking its toll. He had sold his car to pay her hospital bills, shouldering every burden with a quiet strength.

Debbie knew the reason for it, she'd seen it unfold in quiet sacrifices, each one heavier than the last. He'd sold his car to pay for her hospital bills when she found herself pregnant, just a college kid with nowhere else to turn. He'd emptied his savings, the ones meant for her education, in the hope that she might still have a future, even as her own dreams seemed to slip further away.

Her mother had left soon after, unable to bear it when Diane, too, chose a different path and left school to chase her dream of farming. But her father had stayed, bearing every weight, filling every empty role with quiet resilience.

Yet Debbie had kept her own burden hidden from him—the ache she felt as she realized she didn't love the man waiting at the altar. As she knows that the man only stayed with her to protect his own reputation, to avoid the whispers and judgments that would follow if he left. But she didn't want her father to know any of this. He'd already given too much.

Forcing a smile, she'd turned to him that day, trying to look like a young bride excited for her wedding, and not a scared girl afraid of what was to come. He saw right through her. With gentle eyes, he stepped closer, his voice warm with concern. "What's wrong, sweetie? Is the dress too tight?"

She'd shaken her head, fighting back tears, and replied, "No, it's perfect, Dad. I'm just...nervous about everything today."

He had chuckled, moving closer to stand behind her. Looking at their reflection in the mirror.

"Nothing to worry about, sweetheart," he'd said, his voice a quiet reassurance. "Everything's been taken care of, and all you have to do is walk down that aisle." With a loving touch, he patted her hair, careful not to disturb her veil, his eyes reflecting the kind of strength she could only dream of.

"And don't forget, I'll be right beside you," he added, grinning. "You won't have to worry about tripping."

At that moment, she felt her smile turn genuine, a flicker of warmth breaking through the weight of her worry. Her father, who had shouldered debts and burdens far beyond what he should have, was here, still holding her up.

She'd known then, even as guilt gnawed at her, that her father's love was unwavering, that he'd do anything to see her happy.

Everything he'd done to make this day happen, all the loans and sacrifices, wrapped around her like an invisible cloak filled her with a fleeting sense of peace.