Isabelle’s POV
The boutique smelled like vanilla, fresh fabric, and something faintly floral I couldn’t place—but it was nice. Soft music played from the speakers hidden in the walls, the kind of classical piano tune that made you want to sip champagne and pretend your life was a rom-com.
Zahra stepped out from behind the curtain in a white strapless gown that trailed behind her like a cloud. It was beautiful—lace along the bodice, a modest sweetheart neckline, and a thin satin ribbon that hugged her waist. But the expression on her face said it all.
She didn’t like it.
I tilted my head, watching as she turned slowly in front of the mirror, her fingers barely grazing the delicate fabric.
Alexa stepped back into the fitting room at that moment, carrying another dress over her arm—this
