Aria's whirlwind of energy left a vacuum in its wake. The silence in my room felt heavier now, charged with a new kind of anticipation. It was 6:25 PM. I stood before the full-length mirror, turning slightly. The soft pink chiffon of the dress flowed around me, a gentle armor. It felt right. It felt like me. Not the me who was about to defuse a bomb, as Aria had put it, but the me who was trying to build a bridge.
A soft chime from my phone announced a text. It was from a number I didn't recognize. 'Good evening, Miss Isabella. Your car is waiting for you outside.'
My heart did a frantic little tap dance against my ribs. It was happening. There was no more pacing, no more overthinking, no more folding laundry into oblivion. My thumb hovered over the screen for a second, as if I could unsend my heartbeat.
