The day before my fiftieth birthday, my deceased father came to me in a dream and told me, “Don’t wear the dress from your husband.”
I woke up in a cold sweat. It was true. My husband had recently bought me a dress, and when the seamstress brought it back, I cut the lining open and froze in horror.
Olivia Sutton, known to everyone as Liv, woke with a sharp gasp, as if she’d been violently ejected from dark water onto the surface. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might leap right out of her chest. She gulped at the air, feeling the damp cotton of her nightgown clinging to her back, soaked with sweat.
Her hand fumbled for the lamp switch. The room flooded with a soft, warm light. Next to her, on his side of the king-size bed, Marcus “Mark” Sutton slept peacefully.
He was lying on his side, turned toward the wall, and didn’t even stir at her sudden awakening. Liv listened to his even breathing, trying to calm herself, but she was trembling inside. A dream.
It was only a dream. But why was it so terrifying? She carefully slipped out of bed, trying not to wake her husband, and walked on unsteady legs to the kitchen.
Her hands shook as she poured water into a glass. She took several sips, but the lump in her throat wouldn’t budge. She sank into a chair at the table, dropped her head into her hands, and closed her eyes—only to snap them open again.
The vision from the dream instantly reappeared. It was her father. Her daddy.
The man who had died from a heart attack three years ago. He’d stood in the doorway of their master bedroom exactly as she remembered him, in his favorite gray sweater—the one she had knitted for him for his sixtieth birthday. His face was serious, even stern, and his eyes stared right at her with piercing alarm.
“Liv,” he said softly. But his voice had sounded so clear, as if he were truly standing there. “Don’t wear the dress from your husband.
You hear me? Don’t wear that dress.”
He repeated the words three times, never taking his eyes off her, and then slowly dissolved into the darkness, as if he had never been there at all. Liv woke with a scream that got trapped somewhere in her throat and never made it out.
She rubbed her temples, trying to banish the haunting image. What nonsense, she told herself. Just a dream.
A common nightmare before an exciting day. Tomorrow was her fiftieth birthday. Her daughter Nicole and her family would be there.
Friends would gather. A table had been reserved at the Magnolia Grill. Of course she was overwrought.
That’s why she’d dreamt all that foolishness. But why about the dress? Liv shuddered, clutching the glass tighter.
The dress. Two weeks ago, Mark had ceremoniously presented her with a large box tied with a satin ribbon. Inside lay a gorgeous evening gown, deep emerald green—her favorite shade.
The fabric was special, shimmering in the light, and the cut flattered her figure while remaining elegant and modest. “This is for your celebration,” Mark had said, smiling. “I ordered it from that seamstress Nikki recommended.
Ms. Evelyn Reed, I think. She said she’d account for all your measurements.
I want you to be the most beautiful woman at your fiftieth.”
Liv had been moved to tears. Mark had never been a particularly romantic man, always practical and levelheaded. In their twenty years of marriage, she had grown used to his gifts being useful and thoughtful, but without much flair.
And now—such attention, such care. Though there had been something strange about his insistence. “You absolutely must wear this dress,” he’d repeated several times.
“I want everyone to see what a beautiful wife I have. No other dress will do, you understand? This is a special day.”
She had joked it off then.
“Of course I’ll wear it. How could I not with a gift like this?”
But something in his voice, in the way he looked at her when he spoke about the dress, had made her feel a slight discomfort. However, she had immediately dismissed the feeling.
Mark just wants everything to be perfect. That’s why he’s anxious, she had told herself. Liv got up from the table and walked to the window.
Pre-dawn darkness still pressed against the glass. Only the eastern sky was beginning to lighten. The clock on the microwave showed 5:00 a.m.
She still had an hour before her alarm, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. Her father’s image wouldn’t leave her head. She remembered him in life—caring, wise, always sensing when something was wrong with her.
Even when she was well into her thirties, he’d still treated her like a little girl who needed protection. “Mark’s a good guy,” her father had said after their wedding. “He’s reliable.
But, Liv, always listen to your heart. If something feels off, if there’s worry inside, don’t ignore it. A woman’s intuition is rarely wrong.”
Was this intuition now?
Or just nerves and exhaustion? The last few months had been tough. Work, endless household chores, preparing for the birthday.
Plus, Nikki called almost every day, discussing party details and obsessing over every last thing. Liv returned to the bedroom. Mark was still asleep, hadn’t moved an inch.
She looked at his face in the half-darkness—familiar features, gray at his temples, wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Twenty years together. Two decades of life, joys, and hardships they’d overcome side by side.
How could she suspect him of anything bad because of a silly dream? She lay back down, pulled the quilt over herself, and forced her breathing to steady. She counted her breaths, trying to relax, but sleep wouldn’t come.
Her father’s voice echoed in her ears, persistent and troubled. Don’t wear the dress from your husband. When the alarm finally rang, Liv had long been awake.
She lay staring at the ceiling, turning the same thoughts over and over in her mind. Mark stretched, yawned, and turned to her. “Morning, birthday girl,” he mumbled sleepily, pecking her on the cheek.
“How’d you sleep?”
“Fine,” she lied, forcing a smile. “A little nervous, of course.”
“Oh, come on.” Mark sat up and rubbed his face. “Everything will be perfect.
You know how great Nikki is. She thought of every detail. And you in that dress?
You’ll simply be the queen of the night.”
That dress again. Liv felt a knot tighten in her stomach. “Mark, maybe I’ll just wear that blue one after all,” she said cautiously.
“Remember, the one we picked out together last year? It really suits me too.”
Mark froze, then turned to her, and she saw something flash in his eyes—annoyance. Or had she imagined it?
“Liv, we agreed,” he said, his voice suddenly firm. “I specifically ordered this dress for your fiftieth. I spent good money, by the way.
Ms. Reed worked hard altering it just for you. Are you trying to offend me?”
“No, of course not,” she quickly replied, feeling guilty.
“I just thought—”
“Forget it. You’ll wear the dress. Of course you will.”
She hesitated, then nodded.
“Of course,” she murmured. “I’ll wear your dress.”
Mark nodded, and his face instantly softened again. “That’s my girl.
You’ll see, everyone will gasp.”
He got out of bed and headed to the bathroom, leaving Liv sitting there, clutching her knees. What is wrong with me? Why am I reacting this way to a simple request from my husband?
He was right. He’d spent money, tried to do something nice for her, and here she was, being temperamental over a dream. She forced herself to stand and go to the kitchen to make breakfast.
She turned on the electric kettle, took out eggs for an omelet, and sliced bread. The familiar motions calmed her slightly, distracting her from the persistent thoughts. Mark emerged from the shower, already dressed, hair neatly combed, smelling of cologne.
“I’m running into the office for a bit today,” he said, pouring himself coffee. “Need to sign a couple of documents. I’ll be back by lunchtime.
What are you up to?”
“Just hanging out at home,” Liv answered, stirring the omelet in the skillet. “I’ll call Nikki, then I need to get ready. By the way, Ms.
Reed promised to drop off the dress today after the final adjustments.”
“Perfect.” Mark sat at the table and picked up his fork. “So, you’ll try it on this evening, and tomorrow everything will be perfect.”
They ate breakfast mostly in silence. Mark scrolled through the news on his phone, occasionally commenting on something.
Liv nodded mechanically, but his words flew right past her. She watched him, trying to spot something suspicious, some sign that her anxiety was justified. But she saw only the familiar Mark—maybe a little tired, preoccupied
