The streets of the city bustled with the usual afternoon chaos—horns honking, pedestrians weaving around each other, and shop windows reflecting the sunlight like tiny pieces of the sky. Amara Collins walked beside her best friend, Cassandra Monroe, her bag swinging lightly from her shoulder, though her mind was far heavier than the weight of the tote in her hand.
Cassandra glanced at her with a teasing smirk. "You look like you're about to face a firing squad, not a shopping trip."
Amara let out a small laugh, more nervous than amused. "I feel like I am."
"That's because you're about to marry a man you barely know," Cassandra said bluntly, her voice softening slightly. "And that's terrifying. I get it. But we're going to make this fun. Or at least… survivable."
Amara shook her head. "I don't know if fun is in the cards right now. Survival is more like it."
Cassandra nudged her playfully. "Okay, drama queen. But survival looks a lot better in a dress that fits perfectly. And I'm not letting you walk into that engagement looking anything less than stunning."
Amara felt a faint smile tug at the corners of her mouth. "I don't know how you make everything sound so simple."
"You'll learn," Cassandra replied. "Come on. First stop: dresses."
They spent hours moving between boutiques, racks of elegant gowns and carefully tailored dresses brushing past Amara as she walked. Cassandra held up one piece after another, coaxing Amara to try it on, adjusting straps and hems, critiquing subtly but kindly.
"This one," Cassandra said finally, holding a deep navy gown up to Amara's shoulders. "Classic. Elegant. Calm. Perfect for someone who wants to survive a Blackwood engagement without fainting."
Amara studied herself in the mirror, brushing her fingers across the fabric. She felt exposed, not in the physical sense, but in the way her entire life—her decisions, her future, her parents' arrangement—felt on display with every glance.
"I don't even know if I want to do this," she admitted quietly.
"You don't have to want it," Cassandra replied firmly. "You just have to look like you do. That's the difference between appearing weak and appearing unshakable. And you? You can be unshakable. I've seen it."
Her friend's words steadied her more than the dress ever could.
After the gowns, they moved to shoes, accessories, and light makeup, Cassandra guiding Amara through every detail. "You're not trying to become someone else," she reminded her. "You're just… showing the world the best version of yourself. That's all."
Amara nodded, trying to internalize it. Every adjustment, every choice of fabric or color, was a small act of control in a life that suddenly felt like it was slipping through her fingers.
They paused at a small jewelry counter. Cassandra held up a simple necklace. "This. Subtle. Elegant. Nothing flashy, but it says you belong here. That you belong in this world, even if it isn't the one you chose."
Amara let Cassandra fasten it around her neck. She caught her reflection in the glass display—someone poised, someone capable of walking into the engagement and facing whatever awaited her.
But beneath the surface, anxiety still churned. She thought of the black card waiting at home, the contract signed, the looming public spectacle.
Cassandra noticed her glance. "You're thinking about him, aren't you?"
Amara looked away, embarrassed. "Yes. And I… I don't know what I'm supposed to feel."
"Exactly," Cassandra said firmly. "You're allowed to feel whatever you feel. But right now, you need to focus on what you can control. And that's how you show up. That's all. Everything else…" She waved a hand at the busy street outside. "…everything else is out of your hands."
By the end of the afternoon, Amara had a carefully curated outfit: a tailored dress, understated jewelry, elegant heels, and subtle makeup that made her look polished without revealing the storm inside her.
As they walked back to Cassandra's car, Amara felt a flicker of something unfamiliar—confidence, maybe, or at least the illusion of it.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "For… all of this. For making me feel like I can actually survive tomorrow."
Cassandra smiled warmly. "You will. And if anyone asks, I'll be right there to remind them that you're not to be underestimated. Deal?"
"Deal," Amara whispered, gripping her friend's hand briefly.
But as they drove back toward her apartment, her thoughts drifted to the black card and the impending engagement. The reality she had tried to ignore all day waited for her, cold and inescapable.
And deep down, she knew that no dress, no makeup, no carefully rehearsed smile could shield her from what was coming.
Tomorrow, everything changes.