I BORROWED A WEDDING DRESS AND FOUND A LETTER IN THE LINING
The day I tried on that wedding dress, I swear I felt something strange.
Not fear.
Not beauty.
Justheaviness.
But I brushed it off.
After all, it was borrowed. From a vintage boutique downtown. The woman said it had only been worn once, twenty years ago. Cleaned. Preserved. Untouched.
None of that mattered to me. I was just thrilled to finally afford something that didnt look cheap.
I took it home.
Hung it carefully.
And every night before my wedding, Id stare at it. Dreaming of my day. The aisle. The music. The man.
I was in love.
Deeply.
Stupidly.
Young.
But the night before my wedding, as I steamed the dress and checked for wrinkles I felt a tug. Inside the lining, near the hem, something was oddly stitched. A lump. Small. Flat.
Curious, I grabbed a needle.
Opened it carefully.
And inside
A note.
Old. Faded. But the ink was still visible.
*If youre reading this, please dont marry him. Im begging you. Hes dangerous. I escaped because of the bruises. M.*
I dropped the dress.
Literally let it fall.
My heart pounded.
I flipped the note over.
There was more.
> *If he gave you this dress, its because hes done this before.*
But he didnt.
I bought it at a boutique.
Right?
Or did he suggest the place?
I couldnt remember. Suddenly, everything was blurry.
I grabbed my phone. Searched the store online. No website.
Strange.
Checked the address. It didnt exist on Google Maps.
Even stranger.
I drove there.
That night.
My wedding was tomorrow, but I couldnt sleep. I needed answers.
And when I arrived?
It was gone.
Closed.
Empty windows.
Dust.
No sign of the old woman. No sign it had ever been open.
I knocked on the neighbors door.
A sleepy-eyed young man answered.
*Hi Sorry to bother you. Do you know about the boutique that was here?*
He frowned.
> *Boutique?*
> *Yeah a vintage bridal shop. Run by a woman*
He shook his head.
> *Maam This place has been closed for almost twenty years.*
I froze.
> *But I bought a dress here a few days ago.*
He looked me up and down. Then whispered:
> *Youre the third woman to ask me that in five years.*
My blood ran cold.
> *What happened to the others?*
He shrugged.
> *One canceled her wedding and vanished.*
> *The other went through with it.*
> *Last I heard, she disappeared on her honeymoon.*
I ran.
Back to the car.
Sat in silence for twenty minutes.
Then I called himmy fiancé.
Didnt mention the note. Or the store. Or the neighbor.
Just asked:
> *Where did you say you were before we met?*
A pause.
Then:
> *Why are you asking me that now?*
And I knew.
Knew the note wasnt a coincidence.
That dress wasnt a coincidence.
That tomorrow?
Might be my last day alive.
I BORROWED A WEDDING DRESS AND FOUND A LETTER IN THE LINING (EPISODE 2)
I woke up silently.
Not the peaceful kind.
The kind that feels off. Like something was holding its breath.
I sat up, hair tangled, heart racing from a dream I couldnt rememberjust the feeling it left: cold. Stained.
The note was still on my nightstand.
Crushed. Crumpled. But there.
> *IF HE GAVE YOU THIS DRESS, HES DONE IT BEFORE.*
I held it like glass.
I didnt want to believe it. Didnt want to believe *he*, the man I was marrying, could have secrets deep enough to rot silk.
But I couldnt ignore it anymore.
The dress was back in its box. Ivory. Vintage. Hand-stitched. Still faintly smelling of lavender and something else. Weak. Rusty.
I thought it was old perfume.
Now, I wasnt sure it wasnt old blood.
I needed answers. And I couldnt ask *him*. Not yet. Not without proof.
So I drove.
Still in pajamas. Hair thrown up. No makeup. Just fear.
The shop was only ten minutes from the hotel. A hole-in-the-wall wedged between a beauty salon and a used bookstore. Called *Second Chances.*
I didnt remember the name on the receipt.
I pushed the door open.
The bell didnt ring.
Because there was no bell.
No anything.
No dresses.
No racks.
No counter.
Just an empty room with dusty tiles and a broken mirror leaning against the back wall.
Empty.
Abandoned.
Like it had been for years.
I walked back out, confused. A man sweeping the sidewalk next door looked up.
> *Looking for something?*
> *The clothing store. It was here. Two days ago.*
He frowned.
> *That place has been closed since 2019.*
I swallowed.
> *You sure?*
> *I live upstairs. Never seen it open.*
My breath faltered.
I walked back to my car with shaking hands.
If the shop didnt exist where did I get the dress?
And who*who*left that note inside?
I didnt go to the hotel. I couldnt.
Instead, I went to my aunts house.
Shes unshakable. I knew it. Shes seen too much in her life to be surprised.
When I walked in with the dress box in hand, she didnt say a word.
Just pointed to the kitchen and made tea.
Then I showed her the note.
Told her everything. When I finished, she leaned back in her chair. Staring blankly.
> *This sounds like something that happened to someone I knew. Long ago.*
> *Who?*
> *Her name was Morayo. She also wore a secondhand wedding dress. From a shop that wasnt really a shop.*
> *What happened to her?*
> *The same thing youre afraid of.*
> *She married the wrong man.*
> *And the dress tried to warn her.*
I stared.
> *Are you saying the dress is cursed?*
She didnt answer directly.
Instead, she stood.
> *Go home. Burn the note. Leave the dress. Dont wear it.*
But I didnt do any of that.
Because that night, when I picked up the dress box again
It was already open.
And, placed carefully on top of the folded dress
Another note.
Smaller.
Fresh handwriting. Just five words:
> *You have seven days left.*
My heart stopped.
I wasnt even married yet.
I BORROWED A WEDDING DRESS AND FOUND A LETTER IN THE LINING (EPISODE 3)
I stared at the note. Just five words:
> *You have seven days left.*
Neatly folded over the same dress Id tried so hard to forget. The one I rented from a tiny shop tucked between two old buildings. The shop that no longer existed. Or maybe never had.
My fingers shook as I picked it up. Another letter. Neater. More deliberate. Less frantic than the first. But it didnt matter. It felt just as heavy. Just as wrong.
*Seven days for what?*
I didnt believe in curses. Not really. And yet, fear has a way of making even the most rational person start believing in irrational things.
I called the rental receipt number again. Still no answer. Still dead.
I told myself it was just someone playing a prank. Maybe someone at the shop found out I was getting married. Maybe they wanted to scare me. Maybe it was nothing.
But it didnt *feel* like nothing.
I didnt go to work the next day. Instead, I spent the morning scouring the internet for any trace of a boutique called *Second Chances.* Business listings, Facebook pages, archived Yelp reviews Nothing. It was like the place had vanished from the earth.
Or worse. Like it had never been there at all.
By noon, I was exhausted.
Thats when PhShe burned the dress that night, watching the flames devour the fabric and the secrets it held, finally free from its haunting grip.
