Emberly
My mother was able to drag me out of my bed for the wedding dress fitting.
The boutique smelled like silk, perfume, and expectations.
I stood on the small pedestal inside the dressing room while layers of ivory and white were clipped, tugged, and smoothed over my body like they were trying to mold me into someone else.
“Are you okay?” my mother asked for the fourth time in under a minute, her reflection hovering behind me in the mirror. “You’re very quiet.”
I forced my lips into something that resembled a smile. “I’m fine, Mom.”
Sal stood to my left, arms crossed, her eyes soft but alert. She was here as my comfort, to stop my mother from nagging me. She shot my mother a warning look.
“Let her breathe mom,” Sal said gently.“She’s not a mannequin.” She defended me.
My mother
