CHAPTER SEVEN
1236 Words
AVA’S POV
“Miss Ava, lift your chin a little… yes, like that.”
I did.
Not because I wanted to, but because it was easier to obey than to explain why nothing in me felt present.
The room buzzed with quiet urgency. Fabric brushed against my skin as another pair of hands adjusted the neckline of the dress. Pins, soft murmurs, approval.
“Perfect,” another stylist chimed in, stepping forward to adjust the fabric at my waist. “The structure of this dress complements her figure beautifully.”
“Turn slightly…yes, that’s beautiful.”
Beautiful.
I stared at my reflection.
The gown clung to me like it belonged there, like it had always been meant for me. Ivory silk, delicate lace tracing my shoulders, the kind of dress people dream about.
But all I could think was…
This doesn’t feel like mine.
“Do you like it?” the planner asked again, smiling at me through the mirror.
I looked at her.
Then back at myself.
“It’s okay,” I said.
Her smile flickered.
“Okay?” she repeated lightly, as if trying to correct me without saying it outright. “Miss Ava, this is a masterpiece!.”
I didn’t argue.
Because I didn’t have anything else to give.
“Of course she would say that.”
The voice came from behind me.
Smooth and polished cutting through the room
I didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
It was Margaret.
“She doesn’t know the difference,” she continued, her tone laced with something almost playful. “You can’t expect someone like her to appreciate craftsmanship.”
A soft laugh followed, not loud but just enough to be heard, and I caught it in the mirror. It was Sonia standing beside her, a slow smile curling on her lips, anything but kind
“Maybe we should simplify things,” Margaret went on. “Choose something less… ambitious. Something that matches her background.”
Another laugh followed, quieter this time but sharper, and something in my chest tightened—not painfully, just enough to remind me I was still standing here, still listening, still… present
“Miss Ava, shall we try the next dress?” the stylist asked quickly, her voice careful now.
“Yes,” I said.
Because saying no wouldn’t change anything.
They helped me out of the gown into another.
This one was heavier and more elaborate.
The fabric weighed against my body like expectation.
When I stepped out again, the room stilled slightly.
“Now this,” the planner said softly, “this is it.”
I didn’t answer.
I looked at myself again.
Different dress but I still feel the same.
Nothing.
Behind me…
“I suppose this one is better,” Margaret said.
Her reflection appeared beside mine now.
Close enough.
“It hides the awkwardness,” she added lightly.
Sonia laughed again, and this time I turned slowly until our eyes met, but she didn’t look away, instead her smile softened, almost apologetic, yet her eyes told a different story, “I didn’t mean it that way,” she said gently, a lie, a very clean one, “I know,” I replied, my voice steady enough to surprise her.
“Oh? You do?” Margaret said, amused.
“Yes,” I said again and silence stretched for a second.
Tight and uncomfortable until a voice cut through it.
Cold. Sharp. Final.
“That’s enough.”
The room froze.
I didn’t need to turn this time.
I felt it.
Lucas walked in slowly, his presence shifting everything without effort.
The air changed.
The noise disappeared.
Even the planners stepped back instinctively.
He didn’t look at me first.
He looked at Margaret.
And the way his gaze settled on her, made something in my chest tighten.
Not from fear, but from something else.
Something unfamiliar.
“You’ve said enough,” he repeated.
Margaret blinked.
Just once.
Then she smiled.
“Oh, Lucas,” she said lightly, “we’re only trying to help. This is your wedding too, after all.”
Lucas didn’t return the smile.
“I didn’t ask for your help.”
The words were calm.
But they landed like something heavier.
Margaret’s expression shifted just slightly.
“You don’t need to ask,” she said. “As your mother, it’s my responsibility to make sure things are done properly.”
That was when it changed, something in his eyes turning colder, sharper, and more deliberate
“For the first time since I walked in,” he said slowly, “you’ve remembered that.”
The room went completely still.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Even Sonia’s smile faded.
Margaret’s lips parted slightly. “Lucas…”
“If you want to act like my mother,” he cut in, his voice still controlled, “then act like one.”
“Because what you’re doing right now…” his gaze flicked briefly toward Sonia, then back to Margaret, “isn’t concern. It’s interference.”
The word hung in the air.
Heavy. Unforgiving.
Margaret’s face tightened.
“I will not stand here and be spoken to like this,” she said, her voice low.
“Then don’t stand there,” he replied.
I felt it ripple through the room.
and for a moment everything stilled, a beat of silence filled with shock, real shock this time.
Through the planners.
Through Sonia.
Through me.
Because this…
This wasn’t the Lucas I knew.
Not the distant one.
Not the indifferent one.
This was something else.
Something… precise.
Something intentional.
Sonia stepped forward slightly.
“Lucas, she didn’t mean anything by it,” she said softly.
He looked at her.
And for a second, something unreadable passed between them.
“Stay out of it,” he said.
Sonia froze.
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides.
And just like that, whatever control she thought she had slipped.
Lucas finally turned to me.
His gaze lingered for a second.
Then he looked away.
“You’re done here,” he said.
The planners hesitated. “Mr. Carter, we still have…”
“You’re done,” he repeated.
No room for argument.
They stepped back immediately.
“Yes, sir.”
I didn’t move.
I didn’t know what to say.
Because none of this made sense.
Not the way he spoke.
Not the way he looked at them.
Not the way the room had shifted because of him.
Behind him,
Grandfather stood quietly watching.
And then…
He smiled.
Not subtly.
Not faintly.
But openly and proudly.
His eyes shone with something I hadn’t seen in a long time.
Relief. Joy. Hope.
As if everything he believed in was finally falling into place.
“Good,” he said softly, almost to himself. “Very good…”
Margaret didn’t say another word.
She turned sharply and walked out.
Sonia followed a second later.
But not before looking back at Lucas, at me, at the distance between us.
Her eyes darkened just slightly.
The room slowly came back to life.
But it felt different now.
Quieter. Heavier. Charged.
I stood there.
Still in the dress.
Still in the middle of everything.
But nothing felt the same anymore.
Because the man who had stood beside me.
The one who barely acknowledged me.
Had just drawn a line.
Not gently.
Not accidentally.
But deliberately.
And I didn’t know why.
I looked at him but he didn’t look back.
- Writer
