The dress shop is dreamy. Soft light filters through gauzy curtains. Rows of fabric sway gently on gold racks, and mannequins wear gowns that look like magic sewn into thread. But none of it matters — not when I feel like I might explode if I don’t keep touching Caden.
Mum flits around with the stylist, pointing out different colors. “We’ll try a few styles,” she says brightly. “Just to see what feels right.”
Caden tenses beside me. “She already knows what feels right.”
Mum gives him a look, but says nothing.
The stylist brings over a red satin number. It’s fitted. Deep plunge neckline. High slit.
I raise my eyebrows. “We’re starting spicy, huh?”
Mum waves me into the dressing room. “Just try it.”
Caden groans as I vanish behind the curtain. “This is a trap.”
⸻
I step out, feeling
