Today, we go shopping. Katrin walks with an openly displeased expression, as if she is being led to her execution—her lips pressed tightly together, her brows furrowed, and her eyes filled with irritation. Every inch of her demeanor screams that this shopping trip is the last thing she wants. To emphasize her mood, she deliberately dresses in all black, as if in mourning. Her eyes are heavily lined with dark eyeliner, adding a dramatic touch to her look. It seems as though changing her wardrobe is nothing short of a catastrophe for her. Every step she takes is labored, as if she is walking through a minefield rather than a shopping mall. Her hands are clenched into tight fists, and her gaze is fixed on the floor, as though she is trying to shut out the world.
We make our way to the second floor. Mannequins dressed in bright, colorful outfits are everywhere, only highlighting Katrin's gloomy mood. She keeps her eyes downcast, her shoulders slouched, as if trying to make herself invisible. I can see how much this place irritates her—the explosion of colors only intensifies her inner discomfort. She seems out of place in this world of glitter and glamour, like a dark cloud on a sunny day.
I take her hand—her fingers tremble slightly, and her palm is cool. Squeezing it tighter, I try to convey warmth and reassurance.
"Let's go," I say, guiding her into one of the stores.
Katrin doesn't resist, but her steps are slow, as if she is walking to the gallows. Her eyes skim over the displays but don't linger on anything—as if she is afraid to let herself be distracted, afraid to lose her familiar state of detachment, afraid to be drawn into something that might disrupt her dark calm.
Inside the store, we are greeted by a cheerful saleswoman. Her upbeat voice sounds out of place, and Rebel Girl barely nods in response, keeping her eyes down. She stands beside me, cloaked in black, like a gathering storm ready to either explode or dissipate into thin air.
"Hello, welcome to our store!" the saleswoman says warmly, as if her voice could melt the ice surrounding Katrin.
"Good afternoon. We're here to find something… a bit more normal for my girlfriend," I say, trying to sound confident.
The moment the words leave my lips, I feel Katrin's burning gaze on me. Her eyes flare so intensely that I almost flinch. It seems like she could kill me right then and there. With her arms crossed over her chest, she looks as though she's been dragged here against her will.
"Then you've come to the right place! We have dresses, skirts, blouses—all very beautiful, and I think they'll suit your girlfriend perfectly," the saleswoman continues cheerfully, oblivious to Katrin's groan at the word "dresses."
She does wear dresses, but they are different—bold, daring, and in line with her rebellious style. The ones hanging on the racks seem bland and boring to her. She would never have agreed to try them on… if it weren't for me.
I like her style—black, sexy, provocative, bold, and daring. But I want to see her in a different light, in the so-called "good girl" look. She can't wear black forever, even if it suits her. For her, though, this is more of a challenge than an experiment. Maybe even a punishment. I'm not punishing her; I just want to experiment with her style. At least for these two weeks.
"Show us everything. I'll choose, and she'll try things on," I say firmly.
"What?!" Katrin's eyes widen. "You said you'd just buy something, not make me parade around in front of you all day!"
Her voice is filled with indignation, teetering on the edge of anger.
"I don't know what will suit you. If we just buy things, they might not fit or look good on you. So, you'll try them on, and that's final."
I decide to be a little firm at this point. Her resistance only fuels my determination to see this through. She mutters something under her breath, but I pretend not to hear.
"As if there's anything worth wearing here!"
Her sarcasm drips with displeasure, but I sense there's more to it—fear? Insecurity? Or maybe a hint of curiosity.
"Come this way, I'll show you everything, and you can choose what suits your girlfriend," the saleswoman says, leading us deeper into the store. "Here are the dresses, over there are shoes and bags, and further on are skirts, pants, and blouses. Take your time, and I'll come back later."
With a polite smile, she leaves us alone amidst endless racks of clothing.
My girlfriend sighs, but this time, her eyes no longer hold the same irritation. As she follows me through the store, she still moves slowly, but there's a faint hint of curiosity in her step now. I know this trip won't be easy, but I hope it will help lift her gloomy thoughts—and maybe even help her see herself in a new light.
Katrin stands beside me, her fists clenched, her gaze sweeping over the store with open disdain. I take her hand and gently pull her along.
"Well, shall we start?" I ask with a slight smile.
She snorts but follows me—like a little rebel forced to comply. I decide not to push too hard and start small. I walk over to the accessory stand and pick up a bright scarf with a geometric pattern.
"What do you think? Will it suit you?"
Katrin glances at it quickly and immediately looks away.
"No," she replies curtly, but there's a faint hint of uncertainty in her voice.
"Why not? It's bright, cheerful."
"I don't wear things like that," she says, crossing her arms over her chest as if shielding herself.
"Maybe you should try it?"
I hold out the scarf to her, but she doesn't even make an attempt to take it.
"You promised you wouldn't turn me into a doll," she says reproachfully, though a flicker of doubt crosses her eyes.
"I'm not turning you into anything. I'm just suggesting something new," I say softly, noticing how her resistance is gradually weakening.
She sighs, finally takes the scarf, and holds it up to herself, looking in the mirror. Confusion flickers in her gaze, as if she's seeing someone else reflected there.
"Well… how is it?" she asks hesitantly, her voice no longer as sharp as before.
"It looks great," I reply sincerely. "It brings out your eyes."
Katrin blushes slightly and turns away, but I notice the corners of her lips twitch, as if she's trying to suppress a smile. It's a small step, but I know it's a start.
"Alright, I'll take this scarf," she finally says. "But only this."
"Of course," I smile. "But let's look at a few more things. Maybe we'll find something else you like."
I glance at the endless racks of clothing and realize we'll be here for a while. But it's worth it. Everything I'm doing is for her—to help her see herself in a new light, to show her that she can be different. Even if she's furious now, I know that one day she'll understand why all of this is necessary.
I head toward the dresses, and Katrin silently follows me, her steps heavy and her expression dark. She looks like a shadow reluctantly trailing behind an executioner. I pick out one dress after another and hand them to her. Each time I hold out a new one, she shoots me a look full of silent reproach, but I just smile back, trying to stay calm. Rebel Girl accepts them without a word, with the air of someone resigned to their fate. When I've gathered five dresses, I send her into the fitting room. She walks in as if stepping onto a scaffold, and I wait outside, feeling a slight thrill of anticipation.
When she comes out in the first dress, I can't help but smile. It's a light pink dress, reminiscent of a sundress, and it fits her perfectly. Katrin freezes in front of the mirror, her face unreadable, but I notice her eyes widen slightly.
"It suits you," I say gently.
She gives me a disapproving look, but I catch the faint blush creeping onto her cheeks.
The second dress—a green one with polka dots—looks adorable on her. Well, aside from the glare she's giving me, which seems capable of burning down the entire store. I barely hold back a smile, not wanting to make things worse.
I like the other dresses too, except for the last one. But the important thing is that Katrin likes it, so I decide to get it anyway. It's simple and white, but with a cut she usually favors. Elegant yet understated, and I can see her expression soften as she looks at herself in the mirror. She doesn't say a word, but her silence speaks volumes.
Next come the blouses, T-shirts, sweaters, pants, and… skirts. Katrin hates skirts the most. Pants don't bother her—though she rarely wears them—but the moment I suggest a skirt or a blouse, her eyes flash with reproach. I just smile, doing my best to stay calm.
We buy a few items from each category and finish just before the store closes, leaving with a pile of bags, my satisfied smile, and her tired, resigned expression. Katrin stays silent, knowing it's pointless to argue. She's accepted her fate and is at an emotional low. Her steps are slow, her gaze fixed on the ground. For the first time, she seems vulnerable. I want to hug her, but I know it would be too much right now.
"Thank you," I say as we step outside. "You did great."
She sighs, but the corners of her lips twitch ever so slightly. No words, no emotions—just a shadow of gratitude in her eyes. This day has been a test for her. One day, she'll understand why all of this is necessary. And maybe, just maybe, she'll even thank me. For now, I'm just happy she's gone through it with me.