When I return, the principal wedding organizer pulls me into the room. She forces me into the bath, scrubs my body, and puts me into the wedding gown. It’s a lovely white and full of lace. It’s more adorable, rather sexy. It is a ball gown with an elegant bodice and a wide skirt. The train is long, at least two meters from the waist. The train is formal but unnecessary. Just thinking of it being dragged on the ground makes me cringe for the amount of work to clean it up later.
When my hair and makeup are done, they force me to look in the mirror. I snort at the stranger. I look immaculate and chaste. This person looks nothing like me. Too pretty and too regal. Not the same mediocre girl I know myself as.
Besides, this should be Cara’s dress, not mine. I never want this, no matter how bea
