[One Week Before the Wedding]
The boutique was elegant in a quiet, intimidating way—soft lighting, mirrors framed in gold, racks of gowns that looked like they belonged in fairy tales rather than real life.
Evelyn stood in the middle of it all, suddenly very aware of her own heartbeat.
"This is a lot," she murmured.
Patricia, who had been spinning slowly in place just to admire the dresses, grinned. "Oh no. You do not get to panic now. I have waited too long for this."
The stylist laughed gently. "We will take it slow. No pressure."
Evelyn nodded, grateful but the moment she touched the first gown—a heavy satin with intricate beading—her throat tightened.
This was real.
She disappeared into the changing room, and when she stepped out in the first dress, Patricia's eyes widened.
"Oh," Patricia breathed. "Okay. That's unfair."
Evelyn studied her reflection. The dress was beautiful—structured, regal—but it felt distant like she was wearing someone else's dream.
