When my stepmother smashed my late mother’s treasured crystal set just weeks before my wedding, I thought she’d erased the last piece of Mom I had. She stood there smirking, pretending it was an accident. Mom, who died when I was 16, had cherished those glasses, saving them for special moments. My engagement was supposed to be one of them. But ever since marrying Dad, Sandra had turned every mention of Mom into a battle. The crystals were her cruelest target.
That night, devastated, I called my Aunt Marlene—who stunned me with the truth. She had suspected Sandra, swapped the crystal with a thrift store set, and even caught her on hidden camera bragging about destroying “Alice’s precious memories.” The originals were safe. On my wedding day, Sandra strutted proudly—until I took the microphone. Behind me, a video played of her gleefully smashing the fake glasses. Gasps filled the room. Then Marlene walked in with the real set, shining on a tray.
The guests cheered. My father’s voice cut through the noise: “Pack your things. We’re done.” Sandra stormed out in disgrace. That night, we toasted with Mom’s true crystal. The light sparkled through the glass, just as it had when I was a child. Sandra thought she’d destroyed my mother’s memory—but instead, she gave me the chance to honor it forever.