010

Astrid’s POV

I hated all of them.

Every single dress hanging inside that fitting room felt like a personal attack.

They were either too tight, too short, too revealing, too loud and the most annoying part of it all was they were too, not me.

Sulking, I was staring at my reflection in the mirror while the attendant adjusted another dress on the rack behind me.

Silk, satin, sequins and other expensive fabrics shimmered under the lights like they were daring me to step into someone else’s life.

“I look ridiculous,” I muttered.

The attendant laughed softly, shifting her whole attention to me.

“You look stunning, you just aren’t used to seeing yourself this way.” She cooed.

That was the problem, I didn’t want to be seen this way, definitely not by Ocean.

Snapping my eyes shut, I exhaled sharply and reached for another dress. This one was more simple than the others.

It was still elegant, a fitted piece with a slit running up to my thigh but when compared to the rest, it felt safer.

“This one,” I said.

Minutes later, I stepped out of the dressing room.

Ocean was waiting.

Of course he was.

He was sitting casually in the chair, one ankle resting over the opposite knee.

He had his phone in hand but the second I emerged, his attention snapped toward me like an invisible string had been pulled.

That smirk appeared immediately.

My stomach flipped but I shoved the feeling down.

“Don’t,” I said, crossing my arms.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re plotting something.”

He chuckled, pushing himself up slowly.

His gaze moved from my face downward. He was assessing me and thoughtful at the same time.

Standing there in front of him made heat crawl up my neck.

“Well?” I mumbled when he wouldn't say anything.

Tilting his head slightly, he muttered, “I don’t like it.”

“What?” I gasped, staring at him in disbelief.

“The dress,” he shrugged.

My jaw dropped and when I finally found my tongue, I blurted, “You’re joking.”

“No.”

“You’ve been forcing me into clothes I hate for the past hour, and the moment I pick one I actually like, you don’t approve?” I smirked.

I was losing my head, all thanks to him.

“It’s not about approval.” He spoke like he was saying the sky is blue.

“It sounds like approval.” I snapped.

“It’s about what suits you.”

“And you’re suddenly a fashion expert?” I retorted.

God, Ocean was a pain in the ass.

“Maybe.” He chuckled, causing me to throw my hands into the air.

“Unbelievable.” I groaned.

We argued for several minutes, our voices were low but intense.

I accused him of being controlling while he accused me of hiding behind comfort instead of confidence.

“You don’t get to decide how I dress,” I snapped.

“I didn’t say I did.”

“You basically did!”

“I said I didn’t like it.”

“And I said I don’t care!”

The tension between us thickened, becoming heavy and electric.

There was no way I was winning this argument so I turned away, ready to march back into the fitting room just to end the conversation but suddenly his hand wrapped around my wrist.

I froze as the contact was unexpected.

“Ocean…”

Before I could finish, he pulled me closer.

His hand slid to my waist, steadying me, and then, he leaned in slightly and inhaled.

My brain short circuited that instant.

Was he sniffing me?

“What are you doing?” I whispered, stunned.

He didn’t answer immediately. His eyes closed briefly, as if savoring something.

Something inside me snapped and without thinking I shoved him hard and my hand moved before I could stop it.

The slap echoed sharply through the quiet store.

His head turned slightly from the impact, his dark hair falling across his forehead.

“I am not one of your cheap flings,” I said, my voice shaking with anger and something deeper I refused to name.

Slowly, his eyes lifted to meet mine.

Surprise flickered there then regret.

I turned, ready to storm away, embarrassment and fury mixing into something unbearable but his hand caught mine again, gentler this time.

“Astrid,” he said quietly.

“Let go.” I scoffed, trying to pull free but he held on.

“I’m sorry.”

The words stopped me.

“I crossed a line,” he admitted, his voice low. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

The sincerity in his tone twisted something uncomfortably in my chest.

I felt guilty for hitting him but I wasn’t ready to apologize either so I said nothing.

We stood there for a moment, tension settling into something softer and complicated.

“Can we start over?” he asked.

I sighed, running a hand over my face. “Just… let’s finish this.”

The attendant returned cautiously, clearly sensing the charged atmosphere but pretending not to notice.

The clothing selection began again.

Every time I stepped out in a new outfit, Ocean shook his head.

“No.”

“Too stiff.”

“Not you.”

“This one’s trying too hard.”

“Seriously?” I snapped after the fifth rejection.

“I told you,” he said calmly. “I’ll know when I see it.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stubborn.”

Eventually, frustration pushed me to grab a dress purely out of spite.

It was daring.

A backless gown that clung to my body and rested high on my thigh, the fabric flowing like liquid when I moved.

If he wanted bold, I would give him bold.

I changed quickly and stepped out before I could second guess myself.

Ocean’s expression shifted instantly the moment his eyes fell on me.

The teasing ease disappeared and his gaze darkened.

He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at me like he hadn't seen me before.

The attendant clapped her hands softly, breaking the silence. “This one suits you beautifully.” She chirped.

I ignored her, focusing on him instead.

“Well?” I challenged.

He stood slowly, approaching me with careful steps like he was afraid I would disappear.

“This,” he said quietly, “is it.”

A strange warmth spread through my chest but I masked it with a shrug.

“Finally.” I exhaled.

From there, everything moved fast.

Makeup artists appeared, gently guiding me into a chair while warm lights surrounded me.

Brushes moved across my skin, soft and precise.

My hair was styled into something elegant yet effortless, loose strands framing my face.

They did my nails next and all I did was to watch the transformation unfold in the mirror.

Each change felt like shedding layers I didn’t know I was carrying.

When they finally finished, I barely recognized the girl staring back.

She looked confident, soft, strong and beautiful.

A strange lump formed in my throat as I hadn’t felt like this in a long time.

I stood slowly, smoothing my hands over the dress, turning slightly to watch the way the fabric moved.

“Wow,” I whispered to myself.

I liked her, the version of me looking back.

My heart beat became faster as I turned around instinctively, wanting to see his reaction only to see him already staring at me.