The dress fitting

Ariana pov

It had been two days since we visited my parents, and surprisingly, everything had been okay so far.

I had barely seen Ethan or Jared in nearly two days.

Just a blur of staff, drivers, silence, and marble floors echoing under my footsteps.

The house—if I could even call this mansion that,was huge, elegant and completely lifeless. Like a museum. Beautiful, but cold with no sign of family warmth.

The only sound was the soft hum of central air and the occasional polite knock from a housekeeper asking if I needed anything.

I didn’t.

What I needed was conversation. Chaos.

I was bored out of my mind.

I missed the hospital. The nurses’ lounge with its burnt coffee and overheard gossip. The adrenaline of night shifts. The quiet, sacred moments with patients. The way I felt useful.

Here, I felt like a decoration.

After the wedding I’ll talk to him. Ask if I can go back to work.

I didn’t need his permission, not really.

But if we were going to pretend to be husband and wife, we needed ground rules. And I needed purpose.

Because if this was how the rest of the year would be, I wasn’t sure I’d survive it without losing myself completely.

I stepped into the sitting room, where Ethan sat in the dining area with a steaming cup of coffee beside him, eyes glued to something on his tablet. He looked sharp, as always—I don’t know how someone can look so damn good all the time.

“Good morning,” I said, standing awkwardly by the side.

He looked up, just briefly. “Morning.”

“I’ll be going for my dress fitting today. With Mom and Emma.”

“Sure,” he said, barely sparing me a glance. “The driver will take you.”

“Okay. Thank you.” I gave a small nod and turned to leave, the silence trailing behind me heavier than it should have been.

Outside, the car was already waiting.

The driver stepped out as soon as I opened the door. “Ma’am,” he greeted, reaching for the handle.

“Oh no, don’t worry. I can—”

“Don’t worry, ma’am. It’s my job,” he said politely.

“Oh. Okay.” I stepped out of the car—but as if the universe just loved making a fool out of me, my heel caught in the hem of my dress.

“Woah—” I stumbled.

The driver caught me just in time. “Be careful, ma’am.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, feeling heat rise to my cheeks.

A slow clap of heels echoed, and then I heard her voice.

“I see you’re still as clumsy as ever, sister.”

I turned, and there stood Emma, looking flawless in a cream blazer and oversized sunglasses,with our mother standing beside her.

I forced a wide smile. “Mom. Emma. So good to see you.”

“How are you, darling?” my mom said, kissing both my cheeks.

“I’m okay,” I replied, forcing a smile.

“Let’s go in,” I added, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

We stepped into the boutique, and my breath caught in my throat. The space was stunning, it is bright, elegant, and lined with rows of breathtaking gowns. I hadn’t imagined I’d be in a place like this so soon. Marriage wasn’t even on the horizon just weeks ago. And yet… here I was.

As I took it all in, a woman dressed in a sleek, tailored outfit walked in with a warm, practiced smile.

“Welcome to Luxury Gowns & Co.,” she said smoothly. “Who’s our bride today?”

“It’s me,” I said, stepping forward a little shyly.

“Oh, wonderful.” Her smile widened. “Mr. Ethan Cole already booked your reservation. We’ve been expecting you, Miss . Ariana.”

“Please, right this way.”

We followed her through heavy velvet curtains into a private suite. It was so elegant it could have belonged in a royal palace. Plush cream chairs circled a raised platform surrounded by mirrors. A bottle of champagne sat chilling beside fluted glasses, already half poured.

“Well,” Emma said as she sank into one of the chairs, crossing her legs with practiced grace. “Let’s hope they have something that actually flatters your frame.”

I glanced at her, calm. “I’m sure they will,” I replied with a pleasant smile.

She rolled her eyes.

I pulled out my phone. Still no sign of Clara.

“I wonder why Clara’s taking so long,” I murmured, checking my messages again. Nothing yet.

A soft knock interrupted the moment. “Ma’am,” the assistant said with a bright smile. “Please come this way for your first fitting.”

I nodded and followed her into the dressing room. A blush-colored velvet chaise sat in the corner, and the walls were lined with hanging gowns sealed in clear garment bags.

The first dress was handed to me—a breathtaking, timeless two-piece gown.

The skirt was smooth ivory satin, high-waisted with a subtle train that whispered elegance. The top was a delicate lace crop with long, sheer sleeves and intricate beading that shimmered under the lights.

I stepped into it carefully, the assistant zipping me up. When I turned to look in the mirror, I froze.

It was stunning.

But something about the dress didn’t feel like me.

It was beautiful—flawlessly made, elegant in every way—but as I looked at my reflection, I didn’t recognize the woman in the mirror. She was graceful, yes. But almost not real.

I took a breath and stepped out into the waiting room.

“Oh, darling,” my mother gasped. “It’s lovely.”

I offered her a polite smile.

Emma, however, didn’t even blink. But she couldn’t resist a chance to be mean to me.

“You look like a pig.”

“Emma,” my mother snapped. “It’s lovely. Don’t speak to your sister that way.”

Emma crossed her arms, her voice icy. “It would’ve been better if Ethan chose me. At least I wouldn’t shame the entire family with awkward smiles and bad posture.”

For a second, the silence hung thick in the air.

Then—

“The only one shaming your family is you,” a voice cut through the tension like a blade.

We all turned.

Clara stood at the doorway, arms crossed, her expression was that of pure boredom.

With her beautiful blond hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders and those striking green eyes that always seemed to see straight through people, Clara always owned every room she stepped into.

She and I couldn’t be more different but we love each other non the less.

Today, she wore a simple cream blouse tucked into high-waisted jeans and ankle boots that clicked with every step.

“Still obsessed with being chosen, Emma? It’s exhausting. Honestly.”

Emma’s jaw tightened. “This doesn’t concern you, it’s a family issue.”

“It does when you keep trying to tear down someone who hasn’t done a single thing to deserve it,” Clara said, stepping beside me.

I felt something stir in my chest—like I could finally breathe again.

“Besides,” Clara added with a smirk, turning to me, “you look incredible. But if it doesn’t feel right, we’ll find the one that does. And when we do, no amount of bitterness in this room is going to ruin it.”

Clara turned to the assistant. “Can we see the next option, please?”

“Of course,” the woman said, still blinking from the tension that had just sliced through the room. “Right this way, ma’am.”

I followed her back into the fitting area, my pulse still racing—not from Emma’s words, but from Clara’s. The way she stood up for me without hesitation, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She made me feel seen.

The second dress was simpler. A soft A-line silhouette with delicate straps, a low open back, and tiny pearls scattered like stardust across the bodice. It wasn’t as flashy as the first dress.

But it felt like me.

I stepped out again.

This time, the room was completely still.

“Oh,” my mom breathed, standing. “Now that… that’s you.”

Clara’s eyes lit up. “That’s the one.”

Even Emma didn’t say anything. She just watched with tight lips.

I turned toward the mirrors. For the first time since this whirlwind started, I didn’t feel like I was playing dress-up in someone else’s life.

I felt like Ariana.