I should’ve known something was wrong when my future mother-in-law, Janet, kept pestering me about my wedding dress. She texted constantly, offering unsolicited advice but always had an excuse when I invited her to come dress shopping. Eventually, I found the dress — an ivory A-line gown with lace, a sweetheart neckline, and delicate beading. It cost $3,000, but the moment I tried it on, I knew it was perfect. My mom cried when she saw me in it. I felt like a bride. I texted Janet to share the good news. Instead of being happy for me, she demanded to see the dress in person. I politely refused. The gown was too expensive and delicate to be transported unnecessarily. I offered pictures — she declined. Something felt off. Two weeks later, I spent the day at my mom’s house. When I got home, the dress was missing. I called my fiancé, Mark. “You took my dress to your mom’s, didn’t you?” He admitted it. “She just wanted to see it…” When he brought it back, I knew something was wrong before I even opened the garment bag. Sure enough, the zipper was broken, the lace torn, and the shape stretched out. “She tried it on, didn’t she?” I demanded. Mark wouldn’t answer. I was furious. I called Janet, and she casually admitted it. “It’s just a dress. I’ll fix the zipper. It’ll be fine.” “It’s ruined,” I told her. “You owe me $3,000.” She laughed. “You’re being dramatic.” Worse? Mark wouldn’t back me up. That night, I cried alone, holding my destroyed gown. Two days later, Mark’s sister Rachel showed up. She had proof. “I tried to stop Mom,” she said, “but when I couldn’t, I took pictures.” She handed me her phone — there was Janet, squeezed into my dress, laughing, clearly stretching it out. Rachel told me I could use the photos to get justice. So I gave Janet an ultimatum: pay for the dress or I’d go public. She didn’t take me seriously — until I posted the pictures on Facebook along with a full explanation. The fallout was immediate. The next morning, Janet stormed into our apartment in rage. “Take it down! Everyone’s talking! My church group saw it!” “You brought this on yourself,” I said. Mark tried to play peacekeeper, but I realized then — he’d let this happen. He never defended me, never stood up to her. So I made a decision. “You’re right,” I told Janet. “No need to replace the dress.” I slipped off my engagement ring. “Because there won’t be a wedding.” I asked them both to leave. As the door closed behind them, I finally felt free. I lost a dress — but I saved myself from a lifetime of disrespect