Chapter 12
995 Words
“I stole it,” Dasha admitted, the word dropping like a pebble into still water. No remorse clouded her features—only the spark of calculated daring. She pointed ahead to the row of elegant changing rooms, their doors paneled in dark wood with frosted glass accents. “That’s where we’re going to execute the real plan. Grab 2 dresses, one which you like, the other one size larger.”
Elena nodded slowly, the pieces clicking into place with a mix of dread and reluctant thrill. Her stomach twisted, but the pull of the moment—the promise of new dresses, the distant echo of Egor Kreed’s music floating from the atrium speakers—held her in place. Friendship, after all, was a current stronger than caution.
The three dispersed among the racks like scouts in enemy territory, fingers trailing over fabrics that felt like liquid luxury.
Elena selected a flowing crimson dress with delicate lace sleeves, its tag reading 18,700 rubles; Kira chose a sleek black number with subtle silver threading, 22,400; Dasha opted for a sapphire-blue ensemble that shimmered like twilight on the Baltic. To the casual observer—and the security cameras tracking their path from a discreet angle—it appeared each carried only one garment draped carefully over her arm.
In truth, they had chosen sizes larger than needed, slipping a second identical dress beneath the first while the assistant’s back was turned for a fleeting moment. The deception was seamless.
They converged at the changing rooms, hearts synchronized in a rhythm of anticipation and nerves. The saleswoman, now hovering near the counter, gestured subtly to her assistant and the overhead CCTV feeds. “Keep an eye,” her lips mouthed. But the cameras monitored only the approach paths and main floor—not the private sanctum of the fitting stalls themselves.
Elena noticed her schoolbag hung on the shoulder. Dasha gestured to her and closed the door behind her in the changing room. She quickly handed it to the saleswoman. “Take care of it while I change my clothes." The woman nodded. It would serve its purpose later.
Inside the spacious changing room—three mirrored doors branching off a softly lit vestibule—they moved with the precision of performers in a heist film. The door clicked shut behind them, muffling the mall’s hum into a distant heartbeat. They peeled off their oversized dresses with practiced haste: blouses unbuttoned in fluid motions, skirts pooled at their feet like discarded cocoons.
One by one, they layered the dresses—first the inner one, then the outer, choosing the oversized fit so the fabric draped loosely, concealing the double thickness without a single telltale bulge. The silk and chiffon whispered against their skin, cool and luxurious, a far cry from the starched cotton of their uniforms.
Elena’s hands trembled slightly as she adjusted the crimson layers, the hidden dress pressing like a secret against her ribs.
Kira smoothed the black fabric, catching her reflection and offering a thumbs-up to her reflection on mirror.
Dasha’s sapphire creation transformed her into something regal, her ponytail swinging as she turned.
They emerged one by one, stepping into the three-way mirror alcove with the poise of runway models. The assistant hovered just outside the vestibule, her eyes flicking over them with renewed respect after the card incident. “How do they feel?” she asked politely.
Elena studied her reflection—the crimson dress hugging her frame with unexpected elegance, the lace sleeves framing her wrists like delicate vines. For a moment, the thrill overrode the guilt; she imagined Egor Kreed’s gaze landing on her, a smile breaking across his famous face. “It’s… nice,” she said aloud, forcing enthusiasm into her tone.
Kira tugged at her black hem, mirroring the complaint. “Yeah, the fit’s off. Too restrictive for dancing at the event.”
Dasha nodded sagely. “Mine pinches a bit at the waist. We’ll try again.”
“What are you talking about? I liked mine!” Elena pressed.
"It looks horrible on you!” Kira cut her off. "Yeah, that's disgusting!” Added Dasha.
"No way, I really like it… I'm gonna ask someone. Can you please call the woman at the reception?" She said looking at the sales woman.
She nodded and left the room. 3 of them kept arguing about the dress. Dasha, tired of it, stepped away placing her hands on forehead. She stood exactly at the point before the CCTV. Kira pushed Elena inside, scolding her to change the dress.
For a while, both of them remained there. Elena inside, Kira standing in front of the door, Dasha stood at the same position and the bag lay in front of her, still visible in CCTV.
After a while Elena came out wearing her uniform. Kira quickly took the dress from Elena and moved it to place in her school bag. Meanwhile Dasha changed her position in front of the bag so the CCTV wouldn't catch the glimpse of Kira putting the dress in the bag.
“I still like it…” Elena whispered.
The woman entered and asked what happened.
"Oh nothing, we had a misunderstanding and it's now cleared!” Dasha clarified.
Elena handed that dress to the woman. "I don't look good in this… Don't you have anything better?”
"The last shop was way better!” Kira scoffed!
"Yeah, let's go there! This was such a waste of time being here!” Dasha added.
Three of them walked out of the shop, with Kira Dasha wearing the dresses they wanted underneath and Elena carrying it in her bag.
When they finally stepped out, they went to the washroom.
“Girl! I can't believe we did this!" Elena gasped in excitement.
“Now, this is called breaking rules!" Dasha scoffed.
“But why did you wear yours and asked me to keep it in the bag?" Elena asked, curiosity creeping over.
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