Chapter Two: She Deserves to Be Seen
1119 Words
“Perfecto.” Isabela jumped in her room, staring at the dress she had stayed up all night working on.
She stepped away, checking it over. The fabric was smooth, the seams were clean, and everything was in place. She’d double-checked the zipper, fixed a loose thread earlier, and adjusted the straps for a better fit on the mannequin. It was finally done.
She let out a breath.
It looked good. She paced around the room, muttering to herself, “This might be a mistake. What if I get trapped in Camila’s games?”
Her phone rang, and she flinched.
Video Call: María
She quickly wiped her eyes and answered. “Hola.”
“Isa?” María looked closely. “Why do you look like you just won an Oscar? And why aren’t you at the boutique?”
Isabela turned the phone to the dress. “Because I finished it. And I’m going to the gala. I have to prepare, so I’ll go to the boutique tomorrow—even though it isn’t running well, and I’m even behind on rent.”
There was a pause, then María whistled low.
“Madre mía.”
“I know,” Isabela whispered, her voice trembling a little.
María smiled softly. “Wow, it’s amazing. Seriously, you could steal the show at Paris Fashion Week with that.”
“I wasn’t sure I could actually do it.”
“But you did. Like you always do. You made something that’s totally you.”
Isabela went quiet, her eyes watering a bit.
“You okay?” María asked gently.
Isabela nodded. “Yeah… I think I am.”
“Good. Because that dress deserves to be seen. And so do you.”
Isabela smiled genuinely. “You should go now. I don’t want you to get in trouble with your boss.”
“Alright. Bye, Bella.”
Isabela sighed and dropped her phone on the dresser. She caught a glimpse of her lock screen.
“Dios mío! It’s 3 p.m.!”
Isabela rushed into the bathroom, lit a few candles in the corner, and turned off the bright ceiling light. She took a long, hot shower to relax. Afterward, she moisturized her skin and rubbed oil into her hands, which felt tired and sore. Then she stood in front of the mirror without anything on.
Her curls were still damp from the shower. She blow-dried and styled them until they looked neat and natural. She put on her makeup carefully—clear skin, a bit of shimmer on her eyelids, some eyeliner, and bright red lipstick.
When she put on the dress, everything felt different.
She pulled it on slowly, making sure it fit right. The zipper closed up her back and shaped the dress around her waist. She adjusted the neckline, making sure the silver details sat comfortably on her collarbone.
Then she looked in the mirror.
And stared.
“Wow, I look so beautiful tonight,” she said to herself.
She picked up her mask and wore it, just staring at herself in the mirror, lost in thought.
A car’s headlights flashed outside, making her look up. She walked across the apartment slowly, her heels clicking on the floor. She grabbed her clutch, fixed her earrings, and stopped at the door.
Her phone buzzed again. A message from an unknown number:
The car is outside. Ready when you are.
She opened the door.
The air was cool. The driver stood quietly, dressed neatly, his face unreadable. He opened the back door and nodded.
She got into the car carefully, trying not to step on the dress.
The ride was quiet. Outside, the city lights and traffic passed by. Couples hurried to dinner. Isabela looked out the window. Her heart felt steady.
The car came to a stop.
The driver stepped out and opened her door.
Isabela took a breath.
Then, she got out of the car.
“Isabela, I’ve been waiting for you. Let’s go in,” Camila said.
“Hmm. Mom is coming back tomorrow.”
“What? Really?” Isabela asked, surprised.
“Yes. Aren’t you excited to see her?” Camila said mischievously.
“I guess I am,” Isabela murmured.
“Do you want to stand outside all night? Let’s go in.”
The red carpet stretched out ahead, with velvet ropes on each side and photographers snapping pictures. She walked forward, keeping her back straight and trying to calm her racing heart. Her heels clicked steadily on the polished floor.
She took a deep breath and stepped into the gala hall.
And stopped.
The room had tall ceilings that made her feel small, with big chandeliers hanging low, giving off a warm yellow light. The marble floor was so shiny she could see her reflection in it.
Music played quietly in the background. Everything screamed wealth. People were talking and laughing, the air filled with expensive perfume and the faint clink of glasses.
For a moment, she felt overwhelmed, but also a little awed.
This wasn’t just some party. It was a world she’d only seen from the outside.
She walked in further.
“Who is that?”
“Did you see that dress?”
“She looks incredible.”
A few people came up to her, smiling, curious. Someone asked where her dress was from. A woman took a photo with her, saying she had “the best look of the night.” Compliments came one after the other.
“Thank you,” Isabela said with a faint smile.
A woman stared at her. “Who’s your stylist?”
Isabela hesitated. “I did it myself.”
A moment of silence—then more praise.
Even some wealthy heiresses looked impressed as she passed by.
Camila walked up to her, sipping from a glass of champagne with a smirk. “Told you. You’re stealing the show.”
Isabela let out a shaky laugh. “This is… a lot.”
Camila smirked and said, “Just wait for the toast. That’s when it gets interesting.”
Isabela frowned. “What do you mean by—”
Camila’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, muttered “One sec,” and stepped away toward a quiet corner.
She answered the call quickly, keeping her voice low. “Hey. Yeah, I need it tonight. During the toast.”
She paused, listening.
“She won’t even notice. Just make sure it works fast.”
“I don’t care how strong it is. Just get it done.”
Camila glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was paying attention. Then she lowered her voice even more and said.
“She has no clue what’s about to hit her.”
- Writer
