Hearing so many people's exclamations of amazement at my daughter, I couldn't help but raise my chin.
Vivian noticed the audience, raised her arm, and waved to me. "Mom!"
At this moment, all the parents' eyes turned to me, satisfying my vanity all at once. I felt myself almost melting with happiness.
Miranda was very displeased, her tone dripping with jealousy.
"It's just a more expensive dress. Making a spectacle, utterly vain."
"Alright, let's see how your daughter does later."
I retorted casually, continuing to focus on admiring the vibrant youth of the children.
A sea of vibrant, young attendees stood out in their sophisticated dresses and suits, their hair impeccably styled. The boys were brimming with energy, and the girls exuded elegance and grace, a feast for the eyes.
A jarring figure emerged among them, akin to a gray rat scurrying through a pristine, beautifully adorned hall.
It was Miranda.
Clad in a tattered outfit, her style a relic from three decades past, she stood among the finely dressed girls, head bowed, picking at her fingers, feigning busyness that belied her deep discomfort and embarrassment.
Miranda, however, seemed entirely unaware.
Upon spotting Vivian, she leaped to her feet and exclaimed, "Elise, Elise! Mommy's right here! You're the best! You're the most beautiful!"
The nearby parents couldn't help but titter.
"Your daughter's not Marilyn Monroe; she wouldn't look stunning in a burlap sack. Maybe you should have her change her clothes."
This comment immediately upset Miranda.
"Yes, my daughter doesn't need to dress provocatively to get attention. Unlike yours, who seems more focused on her looks than her studies."
Not only did she not cherish her own daughter, but her malice towards others' children was palpable.
The parent retorted, seething with anger.
