In Between

Chapter 6 - That look wasn’t meant to be ignored

She almost didn’t go. For a full ten minutes, Erica stood in front of her wardrobe, staring at clothes that suddenly felt… wrong.

Too safe. Too familiar. Too much like the version of her that had learned how to disappear without leaving. Her phone lay on the bed.

Dark.

Silent.

No new message.

And somehow… that bothered her more than if it had.

She exhaled slowly. Then reached for the black dress. She hadn’t worn it in a long time. Not because she didn’t like it.

Because it required something from her.

It followed her body too closely. Didn’t hide anything. Didn’t soften the lines she had spent years trying to ignore.

For a second—she hesitated. Then she put it on. The fabric settled over her skin like it remembered her better than she remembered herself.

She stepped in front of the mirror.

Looked.

Really looked.

Not the rushed glance she gave herself every morning between responsibilities and expectations.

This time… she stayed.

Her hair fell naturally over her shoulders, but she paused—then gathered it, slowly, twisting it up.

Not perfect.

Intentional.

A few loose strands framing her face.

Softer.

But sharper at the same time.

She reached for her makeup.

Nothing dramatic. Just enough to bring something forward that had been… quiet.

A touch of foundation. A hint of warmth in her cheeks. Eyes slightly darker than usual.

Defined...Awake.

Her lips—she hesitated again. Then chose a shade deeper than she normally would.

Not bold. But not invisible either.

When she looked up again—she didn’t look like a different woman. She looked like the same one…just no longer muted.

Her breath slowed. Something shifted.

Not loud. But undeniable.

Her phone lit up.

Still no message.

She frowned slightly.

Then shook it off.

She picked it up anyway. Opened the camera. And lifted it toward the mirror.

For a second—she almost lowered it again.

This felt… unfamiliar.

Unnecessary.

But then—she held it steady. Took the picture. In the reflection, she saw herself standing straighter. Not posing. Not trying.

Just… there. Present.

She stared at the image for a moment.

Then opened her messages.

Her thumb hovered for a second longer than it should have.

Then she typed:

“I might return home later than you. Goying to the company party tonight. ”

A pause. She added the photo.

Sent.

Silence.

Immediate.

Predictable.

Still—she waited.

Just a few seconds.

Maybe he’d reply fast this time.

Maybe he’d notice.

Say something.

Anything.

“You look nice.”

“Have fun.”

“Stay safe.”

Something small. Something that meant he saw her. Nothing.

She looked at the locked the phone. Placed it back on the bed.

Her chest tightened slightly. Not sharp. Just… familiar. Of course. She inhaled slowly. Straightened her shoulders. And reached for her bag.

As she walked toward the door—her phone vibrated. Her heart reacted first. Quick, automatic, she turned, picked it up, unlocked it.

A message.

Not from him.

“That look wasn’t meant to be ignored.”

Her breath caught. Just slightly.

Her eyes flickered back to the mirror.

To herself. The dress. The lips. The way she was standing. Her fingers tightened around the phone. It wasn’t a compliment. Not really. It was a claim.

As if—whoever was behind the message

had already decided she shouldn’t go unnoticed.

She swallowed slowly.

Looked at herself again. To the woman she had just sent…to the wrong person.

And something shifted. Because for the first time—she wasn’t wondering if she looked good. And for the first time—she didn’t feel embarrassed.

She felt… seen.

She was wondering who exactly was paying that much attention.

She locked the phone slowly. Held it in her hand for a second longer.

Then—she smiled.

Just a little.

And this time—when she walked out the door—she didn’t hesietate.