5.Gown Fitting

--Cassie--

A month flew by in the blink of an eye, and here I was, torn between obligations and my overwhelming desire to flee. The wedding was set for two days from now, yet every fiber of my being recoiled from the thought of it. I hadn’t seen Alessandro since the day I learned of this arranged marriage; even the engagement ring had been delivered impassively by his driver, precisely a week after I received the news. A ring, beautiful but impersonal, lay in its velvet box, coldly glinting under the light—a physical reminder of the life-changing decision that had been made for me, rather than with me.

This wasn’t how I had ever envisioned my wedding. I had always dreamed of a love-filled celebration, where my partner and I, bound by genuine affection, would share the joy with close friends and family. In that vision, he would hold my hand, reassure me, laugh with me, and look at me with the warmth and anticipation that lovers do. But reality couldn’t have been further from that dream. Alessandro wasn’t even a distant acquaintance to me; he was a complete stranger. The ring he’d chosen, however stunning, felt more like a weight pulling me toward an unknown future than a symbol of love.

Lost in my thoughts, I heard the faint but insistent call of Aunt Sophia’s voice cutting through the silence. "Cassie, hurry up! The designer is here," she shouted from the hallway. Her voice was eager, expectant, as though this marriage were her own dream being fulfilled. I stood in the bathroom, staring into the mirror as my emotions welled up uncontrollably. Before I knew it, tears spilled down my cheeks, hot and unwelcome. My heart felt heavy, aching in a way I had never known before. There was no turning back now; it was happening, whether I was ready or not.

Only if Grandpa had never taken that loan from the De Lucas... The De Luca family, powerful and ruthless, had always seemed untouchable until they reached into our lives. The debt we owed them had grown, trapping us in obligations too overwhelming to ignore. My marriage to Alessandro was, in a way, a payment a sealing of bonds between our families, arranged not out of love but out of necessity and duty.

As I dried my tears and steadied myself, I wished for the courage to break free, to reclaim my life from these merciless chains of tradition and obligation. Yet deep down, I knew I wouldn’t run. I couldn’t turn my back on my family, not when they needed me. But it didn’t make the pain any easier to bear.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the bathroom door, bracing myself for the world outside—the waiting designer, the smiling relatives, and, most of all, the life I was reluctantly stepping into.

 I would have been just an ordinary girl, anticipating my admission into university by now. But here I was, weighed down by obligations far beyond my years. My life had taken a turn that I couldn’t have foreseen, all because my father was on the brink of losing everything he had worked so tirelessly to build. If I said no to this marriage, the fallout would be unimaginable. I had witnessed him countless times in his study, late into the night, trying to manage the unending problems that arose, his face etched with worry and defeat. There was no way I could bear to let his sacrifices crumble because of me. This marriage was the price to keep everything intact.

Wiping the remnants of tears from my eyes, I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself. I walked back to my room and selected a simple, fitted skirt and a crop top, something light and easy for the fittings that awaited me. I took one last look in the mirror, ensuring that all traces of my tears had been erased. The girl staring back looked calm and composed, but I could still see a hint of uncertainty in my eyes. I forced a small, reassuring smile, hoping it would give me strength, and then turned to face what awaited outside.

Stepping into the living room, I paused, stunned by the sight before me. Rows and rows of elaborate dresses were displayed as if I had walked into an exclusive bridal boutique. The room was filled with designers, seamstresses, and assistants bustling around, each dress more extravagant than the last. It was overwhelming, and a strange sense of unreality washed over me.

"Ms. Smith," a few of the workers greeted, bowing slightly as I entered the room.

It felt strange to be addressed so formally. Why were they treating me as though I were some kind of royalty? I couldn’t help but feel out of place. Suppressing the awkwardness, I offered them my best smile, hoping it hid my unease.

Where were my best friends? They were supposed to be here by now to help ease the tension. Their presence would have been a comfort, a reminder of normalcy in this surreal situation. But they were nowhere to be seen. I felt a pang of loneliness in the midst of all this grandeur.

"Ms. Smith, I’m Isabella," the designer introduced herself with a warm smile. She had a distinct Italian accent, her voice smooth and confident. "I’ll be working with you on the fittings and dress selection today."

"Thank you," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. I could feel the weight of everyone's attention on me, and the room felt even more stifling. All I wanted was for this process to be over as quickly as possible.

The fitting process began, and the designers moved around me with precision and purpose, adjusting fabrics, making notes, and discussing details in hushed tones. Each dress I tried on felt heavier than the last, not just in its layers of fabric and embellishment, but with the reminder of the life I was stepping into. The dresses were beautiful, works of art in their own right, but none of them felt like they belonged to me. They were symbols of a future I hadn’t chosen, a future I had no control over.

As I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, I could hardly recognize myself. Dressed in silks and lace, adorned with glittering jewels, I looked like a stranger—an imposter playing a part in someone else’s story.

The rest of the staff gathered around, standing in the vicinity of the dresses, each of them casting curious glances in my direction. Their intense stares made me feel like I was an object on display, a specimen to be examined under a magnifying glass. I felt a flush creeping up my cheeks, discomfort settling in as I tried to avoid eye contact with everyone. Taking a steadying breath, I finally mustered up the courage to address the designer.

She said something like, “Perfetto, iniziamo!” but I couldn’t catch any of it. Her words were lilting and beautiful, but I felt completely lost. I cast a hopeful glance at Aunt Sophia, who stood nearby, chatting with another assistant. Aunt Sophia had a talent for languages, but before I could ask for help, I spotted my best friend Hailey and Michelle walking in.

“Aunt Sophia, where have they been?” I asked, grateful for the distraction.

“They arrived just a few minutes ago, dear,” Aunt Sophia replied warmly, a knowing smile dancing on her lips. “And I’m guessing they stopped for a quick snack from my kitchen.”

I couldn’t help but laugh softly at that. Hailey and Michelle had always been quick to enjoy Aunt Sophia’s cooking, and knowing them, they wouldn’t have passed up the chance. But even their presence couldn’t shake the apprehension that had been building up inside me. Just then, Hailey’s cheerful voice filled the room.

“Cassie, look at all these dresses!” Hailey’s enthusiasm was as bright as ever, her excitement spilling over in every word. She was practically bouncing on her toes, which only added to the attention directed at us, and I felt my cheeks flush a bit more.

“Shh, Hailey,” Michelle said, giving her a gentle elbow. “Try to keep it down a bit,” she teased with an exaggerated wink, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Oops, sorry!” Hailey replied with an apologetic smile, but her eyes were still gleaming with excitement. She took in the rows of dresses, marveling at the luxurious fabrics and intricate designs. In the background, the assistants worked swiftly, adjusting and arranging everything in place.

“Just imagine,” the designer murmured to me in a low voice, leaning in as if sharing a delightful secret, “I bet your handsome husband won’t be able to keep his eyes off you when he sees you in one of these.” She added a wink and a soft smile, which made my cheeks flush even more.

Her words caught me off guard, and I felt my heart skip a beat. I swallowed hard, surprised by the wave of nerves that suddenly washed over me. It was as if everyone here knew something I didn’t, like they were in on some grand secret. Hailey and Michelle  had now dived into picking dresses for themselves, their lively chatter and laughter filling the air as they debated which styles would look best.

“Could you please try this one on?” the designer asked, holding up a gown that shimmered under the soft lighting, its delicate sequins catching the light and sending tiny sparkles across the room.

I nodded and took the dress from her, feeling the weight and texture of the fabric in my hands. It was smooth and elegant, almost intimidatingly so. Excusing myself, I made my way to one of the guest rooms nearby, grateful for the chance to breathe and gather myself in private. The room was warmly lit, with a large mirror set against one wall and an armchair in the corner.

I knew I had to at least try it on, even if my heart wasn’t entirely in it. The dress looked exquisite—carefully crafted, with fabric that felt luxurious beneath my fingers. But as I slipped into it and glanced in the mirror, my excitement fizzled. The neckline plunged dramatically, hinting at elegance but demanding caution with every move. It was as if the dress was tailored to make my chest spill over if I so much as breathed too deeply. I felt self-conscious, trying to pull the bodice up just a little, but it refused to stay in place.

"No," I whispered to myself, my voice laced with a tinge of frustration. I took a seat on the edge of the bed, trying to decide if I should give it another chance or call it quits on this one. After ten minutes of wrestling with my reflection, I stood up, feeling more resolved than before.

When I returned to the designer, I mustered a polite smile. "Could you give me some other options, please?" I asked, carefully handing over the beautiful dress, which, despite its grace, felt all wrong. In my hands, it was a masterpiece; on me, it felt more like a costume, one that tried too hard to turn me into something I was not.

As I handed it back, I couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed. I had always dreamed of this moment, of choosing a wedding dress that would make me feel radiant, excited, and most importantly, like myself. But this didn’t feel like my moment. This dress—and even the whole process—felt disconnected, as if I was merely playing a part. I was about to celebrate a wedding I hadn't truly wished for, not like I’d always imagined it would be. Somewhere deep down, I had harbored the hope of sketching my own wedding gown one day. I had always imagined presenting my own design, tailored to suit my taste and my dreams. But now, it was a dream I could no longer afford, part of a future I hadn’t chosen.

My mind, usually alive with creative ideas, felt blank now. I couldn’t think of any design that could make this wedding feel right or ease the tension coiled tightly within me. Every gown felt like a symbol of something I’d lost, and I struggled to muster the enthusiasm to even look at the others.

Aunt Sophia, on the other hand, seemed to be having the time of her life. She twirled in a beautiful, soft blue dress, her face bright with genuine excitement as she examined herself in the mirror. She looked radiant, happy—exactly how I’d once imagined I would feel during this moment. A pang of envy stirred within me, but it wasn’t her happiness that I envied. It was her freedom to enjoy this without any reservations, without the heavy weight of duty and obligation pressing down on her shoulders.

At least someone is happy, I thought, forcing a small smile as I watched her delight in her reflection.

"I said, let's go with the gold, Hailey," Michelle, declared, casting a sideways glance at Hailey, who looked somewhat annoyed by the suggestion. They each held up two gorgeous dresses—one pure white and the other a dazzling gold, both dripping with delicate beads and sequins that sparkled under the showroom lights.

"No, I want the white, please," Hailey insisted, her gaze fixed on the pristine fabric as though it held the promise of her own fantasy.

"Well, Cassie, what do you think they should wear? It’s your wedding after all," Aunt Sophie interjected, her voice light and cheerful, though I sensed a bit of probing curiosity behind her words. The moment she asked, everyone’s eyes turned to me, making me feel uncomfortable yet again.

"They can choose whichever they like," I replied flatly, avoiding their gazes. In truth, I didn’t care about colors, dresses, or even this wedding. My indifference wasn’t lost on the room, and I caught a glimpse of slight disappointment in the workers' eyes.

Seeing the awkward silence hang heavy, the designer stepped in gracefully. "As the fashion designer here, may I suggest going with the gold? Since the bride will be in white, the gold will add a complementary elegance to the bridal party." She smiled, giving her advice in a gentle but decisive way that made them both nod.

As I looked away, I caught sight of a breathtaking gown hanging on a nearby chair. I hadn’t noticed it at first, but something about its refined, classic beauty stood out, drawing my gaze despite my attempt to remain detached. It was adorned with fine stones that gleamed like tiny stars, casting a subtle shimmer with every movement. The lacework along the sleeves was delicate and intricate, with a modestly cut neckline that revealed just a hint of collarbone—far from the plunging, overly daring styles that seemed to dominate wedding fashion. It was elegant, understated, yet utterly exquisite.

I felt a pull toward it, but I quickly forced myself to look away, hoping no one had caught me admiring it. After all, this wasn’t my dream wedding, and that dress was a symbol of a fairytale that wasn’t mine.

But, of course, I wasn’t so lucky. The designer had already noticed me staring, a gentle smile playing on her lips as she picked up the gown and brought it over to me. "I see you've found the one, Miss Smith," she said softly, holding the gown up for me to see in full detail. I swallowed, feeling my throat tighten, and nodded, though part of me didn’t want to show any enthusiasm.

"I’ll help you try it on," she offered, her words as kind as her tone.

As she guided me to the fitting area, Hailey and Michelle wandered over, their eyes widening as they took in the dress’s luxurious details. "Are those… real diamonds?" Hailey asked, her voice barely a whisper.

The designer nodded, beaming proudly. "Yes, they are made from pure diamonds and some of the finest crystals available. It’s a custom piece," she explained, clearly proud of her work.

"This must cost a fortune," Michelle murmured, glancing at me with an amused smile. "Only the best for our Cassie."

The designer confirmed with a smile, "Yes, it’s quite a precious piece."

A surprising sense of satisfaction bubbled up within me as I thought about the cost. Knowing that this wedding would force them to spend an exorbitant amount of money on a dress I hadn’t even wanted made me feel a bit victorious. They were orchestrating this entire charade, forcing me into a life I hadn’t chosen, so if I had to go along with it, I might as well enjoy seeing them incur the expense. It wasn’t a perfect revenge, but it was a small victory.

I couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto my face at the thought, a bit of defiance that, for once, didn’t feel wrong. At least in some way, they would come to regret this marriage.