When I walked into the restaurant wearing a bright orange terrycloth dressing gown and fluffy pink pom-pom slippers, the waiter nearly dropped his tray. His eye twitched as he tried to decide whether I was a madwoman or part of some elaborate prank. I just smiled sweetly and said, «Please take me to the table reserved under the name of William Turner. Its his fiftieth birthday celebration.»
Poor chap led me through the dining room, and I could feel every pair of eyes on me. You know that feeling when your footsteps echo louder than they should? My slippers slapped against the polished floor, the gown flapped dramatically, and the pom-poms bounced cheerfully with every step.
But lets start from the beginning.
That morning, on Wills big day, I woke up at seven as usual and ran through my mental checklist: hairdresser at ten, manicure at one, collect the cake at three, and be at the restaurant by four to check the table settings and greet guests. Will was still sprawled across the bed, snoring like a teenagerfifty years old and still incapable of waking up gracefully.
The kettle hadnt even boiled when the phone rang. It was Margaret, my mother-in-law. Eight in the morning. Shes nothing if not punctual, but this early? Unheard of.
«Emily, darling, good morning,» she cooed, suspiciously sweet. «Did I wake you?»
«No, no, Margaret, Im already up. Preparing for the party.»
«Well, thats exactly what I wanted to discuss. I have a… delicate request.»
I braced myself. When Margaret says «delicate request,» trouble always follows. Fourteen years of marriage had taught me that much.
«Im listening.»
«You know today is such a special occasion for our William. A milestone, all these gueststhe spotlight should be entirely on him…»
She paused, and something unpleasant squirmed in my gut.
«So I was wondering… if you might, well, *not* draw too much attention to yourself? Let my son be the star of the evening?»
I nearly choked on my tea.
«Pardon? What exactly do you mean by *not* draw attention?»
**Chapter 1: The Mother-in-Laws Request**
«Just… skip the bold dresses, dont interrupt, dont argue. Let everyone admire the birthday boy.»
I froze, processing her words. She wanted methe wife and hostessto fade into the wallpaper.
«Margaret,» I said coolly, «are you asking me to show up in my dressing gown?»
«Dont be dramatic,» she chuckled. «Though, if you did it with humour, why not?»
**Chapter 2: The Birthday Boys Morning**
By nine, William finally stirred, yawning so wide I half-expected to be sucked into the void.
«Em, where are my socks?» he grumbled, eyes still shut.
«Probably in the afterlife with your youth,» I muttered.
No replyeither he hadnt heard or pretended not to. Men in their fifties sometimes regress to teenage sulkiness: perpetually losing things and permanently disgruntled.
As he rummaged through the wardrobe, I couldnt shake Margarets words. *Dont draw attention?* This was *my* party too!
**Chapter 3: The Hair & Nail Sabotage**
By ten, I was in the hairdressers chair.
«Emily, what are we doing today?» she asked brightly.
«Something invisible,» I sighed.
«Sorry?»
«Literally. Make it so my husband shines, and I dissolve into thin air.»
She gave me a puzzled look but obliged, styling my hair neatlyneither too flashy nor too plain.
By one, I was at the nail salon. And then it hit me: what if I took Margarets request *literally*? Show up in a way that left everyone speechless.
**Chapter 4: Operation Dressing Gown**
When I got home, Will was already getting ready. His new suitthe one wed picked togetherfit him perfectly. Handsome devil. Almost brought a tear to my eye.
«Em, what are you wearing tonight?» he asked.
«Oh, dont worry. Ive got something *special*,» I said mysteriously.
As usual, he suspected nothing. Men rarely do.
I pulled out my neon-orange dressing gown and pom-pom slippers. One look at this masterpiece, and I knew: if I was going to be invisible, Id do it *spectacularly*.
**Chapter 5: The Grand Entrance**
I stepped into the restaurant. The waiter nearly fumbled his tray. Guests whispered. And there, in the centre, sat Margaret, dressed like the Queen at a garden party.
Her face dropped as if shed just found a mouse in her handbag.
«Emily!» she hissed. «What on earth are you doing?!»
«Is something wrong?» I blinked innocently. «I followed your advice*dont draw attention*. See? Everyones looking at Will.»
The room erupted in laughter. Will turned beetroot but couldnt help grinning.
**Chapter 6: The Party Takes a Turn**
From there, things spiralled wonderfully. One tipsy uncle bellowed, «Now *thats* a devoted wife! Turning up in a dressing gown for her man!»
Auntie Joan added, «At least shes comfortable! Look at those pom-poms bounce!»
Instead of stiff formality, the party buzzed with warmth. People took photos with me, Will beamed like a Christmas tree, and Margaret sat stewing like a thundercloud.
**Chapter 7: Cakegate**
When the three-tiered cake arrived, Margaret exploded.
«This is disgraceful! On my sons most important day, youve turned it into a circus!»
I shrugged. «At least no one will forget it. Isnt that the point?»
Suddenly, Will stood. «Mum, enough. Emilys the best wife I could ask for. Without her, Id be celebrating alone with a takeaway and the telly.»
The guests cheered. I nearly wept.
**Chapter 8: The Aftermath**
Back home, Will tossed his jacket aside.
«Youre mad, Em. But thats why I love you.»
And I thought: sometimes, to show who you really are, all it takes is a dressing gown the colour of a traffic cone.
**Epilogue**
A week later, Margarets photo album appeared with the caption: *Williams 50th*. Half the pictures were me in my gown and pom-poms.
And guess what? Those were the ones that got the most likes.
Now, whenever someone in the family says *dont draw attention*, everyone just laughs.
