Chapter 12 - Save the dress
1447 Words
Lilly's POV
"Oh, sh*t!" James cried out, horrified, standing with the pitcher handle in his hand as it crashed onto the table, spilling its contents all over me and my dress.
I gasped in shock, feeling the cold liquid seep through the fabric and cling to my skin. James's face turned a deep shade of red as he stammered an apology, but all I could think about was how I would never be able to wear this dress again.
The ballroom went quiet, as if everyone was called to silence. Everyone's eyes turned to our table.
How embarrassing!
"Are you okay?" he asked. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to. It broke when I lifted it. I... I..."
I didn't respond. I just sat there, my mind racing as I tried to process the humiliation. The laughter and whispers around us felt like daggers, and all I wanted was to disappear from that moment.
It wasn't his fault. He didn't do it deliberately.
I slowly tilted my head, finding his gaze. His eyes were filled with concern, and for a fleeting moment, the embarrassment faded as I recognized the sincerity in his expression.
"I... I know it was an accident," I finally managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper, as I tried to regain my composure.
Jacob growled next to me, and James took a quick step back.
James raised his hands in a gesture of peace, his eyes darting between Jacob and me. "I promise, it was just an accident," he said earnestly, trying to bridge the tension that hung thick in the air. I could feel Jacob's aura filling the space around me.
"Jacob, I didn't do that on purpose! I swear!" he defended. "You know me. I would never—"
"Here," Jacob said, cutting him off and gently handing me a napkin to dry myself.
I took the napkin, my fingers brushing against Jacob's as I wiped away the spills from the dress. The tension slowly began to dissipate, but I could still sense the unease lingering between the three of us.
I reverted my attention to him, seeing his eyes had shifted to black. His expression was intense, and I could sense a storm brewing beneath the surface.
"You need to be careful," he warned his brother, his voice low and steady, as if he were trying to contain the chaos swirling within him.
Despite my efforts, the napkins were ineffective. I sighed, defeated.
"It's not working," James said, stepping closer to help me.
"Don't you dare," Jacob growled through his teeth. The tension in the air escalated, and I could feel the weight of his protectiveness as he stepped between James and me, his body rigid with a mix of anger and fear. "You have done enough damage as it is."
"But I just want to help!" James protested, his voice trembling with frustration.
Jacob's glare intensified, and he remained unwavering, determined to shield me from any further harm, even if it meant pushing away his twin brother.
James took a hesitant step back, his expression a mix of hurt and confusion.
"You can't just treat me like the enemy," he said, desperation creeping into his voice as he glanced between us, searching for an understanding that seemed out of reach.
"Come with me," Jacob said and gently pulled me to my feet.
I sighed, feeling the water run and drip down on my delicate dress. I might as well just go home. There is no way that I could continue my night in a soaked dress.
I followed behind Jacob out of the hall. James was whimpering in his seat.
I felt awful for him. He didn't do this on purpose. It was just a silly accident.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked when we were deeper inside the packhouse.
"To find you another dress," he replied.
"Another dress?" I whispered, confused. "Where would you—"
"My mother," he replied, and came to a stop at a door. He quickly nodded and pushed the door open.
"Mom!" he called out. "I need your help!"
The apartment was small but cozy. Warm colors filled the room, and for some reason I felt comfortable being there.
"Mom?" Jacob called again.
"I'm coming, Jacob!" An elderly woman with a gentle voice came from down a short hallway. "You are always so impatient!"
She came to a stop when she noticed me. She knitted her eyebrows together and swept her clear blue eyes over my damp dress.
"Who is this?" She asked Jacob, her gaze never leaving mine. "And what the hell happened to her?"
"James," Jacob growled. "He spills water—"
"It was an accident," I quickly stopped Jacob. "He didn't do it on purpose. The pitcher handle broke." And I gestured to the stains on my dress.
"Oh, Goddess," the woman gasped. "How clumsy of him!"
Jacob's mother unwillingly turned her attention to him; confusion flashed through her blue eyes before she reverted her attention back toward me.
"I need you to please help fix the situation, Mom," Jacob said.
They locked eyes, and for a moment I could only hear our heartbeats echoing in the silent room. Jacob must be busy mind-linking his mother. I wondered what he was saying to her.
"Oh, okay," the woman replied, anxiously, as her gaze moved back to mine. "Come with me."
I followed the elder woman down the short hallway, and she gestured for me to enter the room.
It wasn't a giant room, but there were different kinds of fabrics hanging from the walls. The fabrics were vibrant and richly textured, each telling a story of its own. As I stepped inside, the air was filled with a comforting warmth, as if the room itself was alive with history and secrets waiting to be uncovered.
"Let me have a closer look," she said, gesturing to a little platform, and I stopped dead center in the room. "Get onto that."
I did as she said, feeling embarrassed that we had disturbed the woman.
The woman, now watching me intently, seemed to sense my hesitation, and her eyes sparkled with encouragement.
"Don't worry," she said softly, "every story deserves to be told, and you might just find yours here."
The older woman scrambled to a desk. Her hands were searching for something on the messy table.
"Ah," she gasped, picking up a pair of glasses and placing them on her nose. With her glasses now perched on her nose, she slowly turned around, her gaze traveling over my soaked dress.
She stepped closer, pity and understanding painted on her face. The tremor in my hands betrayed my unease.
"I am sorry," she said sadly. Her voice was gentle, and I could feel the warmth of her concern enveloping me like a soft blanket, momentarily easing the chill that had settled deep in my bones. "But I will not be able to save your dress tonight."
She sighed.
"It's a pity," she continued, her eyes scanning the fabric as if searching for a miracle.
Tears formed behind my eyelids, threatening to spill over as I fought to maintain my composure.
"I understand," I whispered, my voice barely audible, as the weight of disappointment settled heavily on my heart. A simple accident has ruined such a lovely dress.
What will people think if they see me like this?
Was there no hope left?
My gaze caught her blue ones, and she smiled gently.
She seems so genuine, warm, and motherly. I couldn't help but feel at ease around her. Yet my heart hurt so much.
"The fabric is very delicate," she continued to explain, her gaze searching mine. "It will take some time to remove the stains that had already formed."
I nodded in understanding as she pointed to the dried stains, and I blinked the warm tears back.
Why was I so emotional about the dress?
Why did it feel like my heart was breaking?
"Don't worry, dear," she said, taking my hand in her small, warm one. "I can help you with a similar dress."
"You can?" I gasped, feeling some hope bubble inside me. There's still hope! I didn't need to go home already.
The elder woman nodded softly and let go of my hand.
"I'll be back shortly," she said, stepping toward the door. "And come help you with your dress."
I nodded, feeling warm tears roll down my cheeks.
"Thank you," I whispered. "You are very kind."
She smiled as she left the room, closing the door behind her.
What kind of dress did Jacob's mother have in mind? Will it be as special as this one?
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- Writer
