She mocked the idea from the start. Prom night, Mom looked beautiful in a powder-blue gown. People were touched, teachers complimented her, friends welcomed her. For the first time in years, she stood tall. Then Brianna arrived. She loudly asked why my “middle-aged mom” was there and laughed with her friends. Mom’s smile faded. The crowd went silent. I didn’t argue — because I already had a plan.

Days earlier, I told the principal my mom’s story. So halfway through prom, before announcing the royalty, the principal took the mic: “Tonight we honor someone who missed her own prom to raise an incredible son. Emma, thank you.” A spotlight hit us. The room erupted in applause. Mom cried into her hands. It became the most shared photo on the school website.

Across the gym, Brianna’s face fell as her friends drifted away. At home afterward, my stepdad grounded her until August and made her handwrite an apology. She screamed, but he didn’t budge. Mom said it was the most loved she had ever felt. The best part wasn’t the spotlight — it was watching my mother finally realize she deserved it.