Chapter 22
I pushed open my bedroom door, ready to drop onto the bed and lose myself in the safe monotony of my four walls. But instead of the familiar mess of my unmade bed and scattered books, there it was–a dress spread out perfectly on my duvet like it belonged there.
I froze, my hand still on the doorknob.
It was sleek, floor–length, and in a soft lavender shade that seemed to glow under the light, with delicate lace detailing on the sleeves and neckline. It was the bridesmaid dress for my mother’s upcoming wedding. I recognized it immediately. She had shown me a picture of it a few days ago, all smiles and excitement, asking me to come along for the fitting. I had mumbled something about being busy and conveniently kept forgetting the date. Now, here it was, looking suspiciously tailored to my size.
I stood there for a moment, staring at it like it might suddenly jump up and explain why it was here. The fabric shimmered faintly, as if taunting me. Carefully folded beside it was a note written in my mother’s neat handwriting: “Try this on.”
I approached it cautiously.
It was undeniably beautiful. Too beautiful, even.
I swallowed hard, reaching out to run my fingers over the material. It was soft, smooth, and ridiculously expensive–looking.
had purposely avoided every opportunity to go for the fitting. Not because I wanted to be difficult, but because… well, I wasn’t sure I wanted to face it all yet. The reality of this wedding.
The longer I stared at the dress, the more complicated my feelings became.
I wasn’t exactly thrilled about my mom’s marriage. Sure, I wanted her to be happy, but this… it was still hard to accept.
She was getting married.
My mother was… getting married.
I hated the thought, but she looked stand in her way?
So
genuinely happy. If this wedding made her feel like her life was finally falling into place, then who was I to
Still, seeing the dress now, perfectly tailored like it had been waiting for me all along–it hit me in a way I wasn’t ready for.
I picked it up, holding it against myself in front of the mirror. It draped perfectly, the soft lavender color somehow complementing my skin tone like it was made for me. And that just made it worse.
A sigh slipped out as I folded it carefully over my arm and left the room. I needed to talk to her.
I headed downstairs, and found my mom in the kitchen, humming to herself as she arranged some flowers in a vase. The scent of fresh lilies filled the air, and for a second, the scene felt too perfect–too picturesque.
“Hey,” I said, holding up the dress as I stepped into the kitchen.
She turned to look at me, her face lighting up with that radiant smile she seemed to wear all the time lately,
“Oh, you found it!” she said, setting the vase down and wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. “What do you think?”
“It’s… nice,” I admitted, though my tone came out more uncertain than I intended. “But how did you-” I gestured vaguely at the dress, “-get this to fit me? I didn’t go to any fittings.”
Her smile faltered for a moment, replaced by a slight look of frustration. “Camila, I told you about the fitting appointment days ago and reminded you every single day but you never show up.”
“I had school,” I replied, though the excuse felt weak even to me.
“Well,” she said, her voice softening, “I had a feeling you won’t go, so I asked the tailor to drop it off for you. They worked from your measurements from last year. I thought it’d save us both some time.”
I stared at her, the weight of her words sinking in. She had gone out of her way to make sure I had this dress, even though she knew I was intentionally avoiding everything wedding–related.
“You could’ve told me,” I muttered.
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she folded her arms.“Would you have gone to the appointment?”
She had me there.
“I just wanted to make things easier,” she said, her tone gentler now. “I know this isn’t… easy for you.”
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1 PRS HOT Towerdies
3:35 PM
Chapter 22
That hit a nerve. I looked down at the dress, the soft lavender fabric suddenly feeling heavier in my hands.
“I’m not trying to make this harder,” I said quietly, almost to myself.
“I know,” she replied. “And I appreciate that you’re trying, even if you don’t realize it.”
The words hung between us, unspoken emotions tangled up in the air.
I nodded stiffly, turning to leave.
“Camila,” she called after me.
I paused, glancing back over my shoulder.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “It means a lot to me that you’re doing this.”
I didn’t respond, just nodded again before heading back to my room.
6
Back in my room, I draped the dress carefully across the bed and sat down beside it, staring at it like it held all the answers to my swirling thoughts.
I didn’t hate the idea of my mom being happy. In fact, I wanted that for her more than anything. But this wedding–it wasn’t just about her happiness. It was about change. Big, irreversible change.
And I wasn’t sure I was ready for that.
The dress shimmered under the light, almost mocking me with its perfection. It was beautiful, yes, but it also felt like a reminder of everything I was struggling to accept.
For now, all I could do was sit there, staring at the lavender fabric, and wonder how the hell I was supposed to figure it all out.
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