Nez Perce Dress: A Study In Culture Change

On the day I went to try on my wedding dress, Enzo had said he would come with me—but he never showed up. The train of the gown was too long. I stood alone in front of the mirror, bending over again and again to fix it more than a dozen times. The third time I stepped on the hem, my phone finally buzzed. 'Natalie just came back and isn't used to the weather here. I'll go pick her up. You try on the dress first.' The next second, a new post popped up on social media. Natalie had uploaded a photo. In it, Enzo was crouched in front of her, one hand wrapped around her slender ankle as he carefully fastened the strap of her high heels. The caption was only one line. 'He still couldn't bear to let me bend down.' When I tapped into the post, I saw that Enzo had already liked it. The bridal assistant sensed the shift in the air and tried to comfort me in a low voice. "Ms. Blackwood, Mr. Beck really cares about you. He was worried you might secretly diet and hurt your health, so he specifically told us not to alter the waistline any further." I smiled. He cared about me, yes. But his care had never stopped him from favoring someone else. I lowered my head and looked at the wedding dress on my body. Then it suddenly struck me. The thing that did not fit had never been the dress. It was this wedding.

I've been pregnant for six months, but my Alpha mate, William, has delayed our mating ceremony 29 times. He's waiting for his adopted sister, Rita, to find a mate so they can have a "two-couple mating ceremony." The 30th time I altered the waist of my beloved mating ceremony dress, the bridal shop assistant looked embarrassed, "Miss, this dress really can't be widened anymore. How about you choose another one?" Disappointment rose in my throat like bile. I called William, asking when the ceremony would finally happen. But William said: "I will give you an unforgettable mating ceremony, but Rita's mate hasn't been matched yet. Darling, can you wait a little longer? We shouldn't ruin her whole life over such a small thing, right? I know you'll understand. You're always so kind." My heart clenched suddenly. So, my dream mating ceremony is just a small thing. Rita's sweet, high-pitched voice chimed in: "Brother, my mating ceremony dress matches yours so perfectly!" That was the moment I realized I was never the one being chosen. I looked down at my round pregnant belly, tears slipping quietly from the corners of my eyes. Then, with a trembling hand, I dialed the number that had always been waiting for me. "I'm ready to leave." After the call ended, the clerk cautiously asked: "Would you like to choose another one?" "No. Just cancel it, please." I took one last glance at the dress that would never belong to me. If this ceremony was never for me, then I won't stay for it.

My five-year marriage with Alexander was like a couture gown, ripped to shreds. "I want Victoria to show your collection for the New York Fashion Week spring preview." My husband Alexander's voice cut through the sketch I was working on. I stopped drawing. I must have heard him wrong. "What did you say?" "Victoria is new. She needs a platform. Your new spring collection is the perfect springboard for her." "You're a showstopper every year. What's the harm in giving her one shot?" he asked, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "Besides, the brand needs new blood." I stared at the man I'd spent five years with. Suddenly, his face looked sharp, unfamiliar. "Do you have any idea how many nights I've stayed up working on this collection? And you want to give it to some new assistant?" "Evelyn, don't be so petty. It's just a preview." His expression turned cold. "I've already decided." I clenched my fists, a thousand emotions churning inside me. Fine. If you're going to treat me like this, don't blame me for leaving you.

On the flight to Arlencia, a post popped up: [What's it like to have sex in a wedding dress?] The pic showed a girl yanking some guy's purple tie while he hiked up her gown. His face was blurred, but hers? Straight-up blissed out. Everyone in the comments was swooning over how in love they looked. I didn't swoon. I froze. Because that purple tie? I gave it to Zeke Santoro, my fiancé, a few days ago. And that wedding dress? The exact custom one he had made for me. There was only one. I kept zooming in, heart racing, until I spotted a family photo in the background. My hands were shaking when I called him. "I wanna see the dress," I said. He hesitated. "It's at the studio getting final touches. Not with me right now. I'll show it to you later." I just smiled and hung up. That was all I needed. Zeke cheated—and the girl? His stepsister, Jella. Total circus. I reopened the post and shot her a DM: [Your wedding dress is stunning. I have the same one.]

Pine Hollow has followed the same wedding custom for more than a century: the groom must hand-stitch a pair of bridal shoes for his bride to wear during the wedding send-off. If the shoes fit, it means the ancestors have blessed the couple with a lifetime of happiness. I tried on six pairs, but each one was either too large or too small. Every wedding had to be canceled. Each time, Cole Bennett promised me guiltily, "Audrey, wait for me. I swear I'll make you a pair of bridal shoes that fits perfectly." I believed him. Then, at our seventh send-off, I put on the shoes and my toe tore straight through a hole in the front. I froze, but Piper Dawson, who had come with the groom's party, pointed at me and burst out laughing. "Sorry, Audrey. I didn't know the pair I bought this time would be so poorly made. They're even worse than the first six!" I stared at Cole in disbelief. "She bought all the shoes? We prepared for seven weddings, and you let her turn every one into a game?" He frowned and looked at me as though I were the unreasonable one. "Piper is a tomboy. Why are you making such a big deal out of this? You already waited through six weddings. What difference does one more make?" Then he stroked my hair and spoke casually. "Stop making a scene. I promised Piper I wouldn't marry you until she turns twenty-five and can live independently. "I promise I'll stitch the next pair myself." I watched him in silence. He had forgotten that I no longer had the right to make a scene. In Pine Hollow, seven failed wedding send-offs marked a bride as ill-fated. Within three days, she had to enter an alliance marriage with someone outside the community. And she was forbidden from returning home for seven years.

I’d been with Hurley, the heir to the Crescent Claw pack, for seven years. He’d insisted on throwing me a huge birthday party. But on the day of the party, Hurley gave the million-dollar custom gown my mother had commissioned for me to his childhood friend, Rachel. He said it so casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Rachel’s dress got ruined, and we couldn’t find a replacement in time. You two are about the same size, so I just let her borrow it.” “I remember you have a few backup dresses, right? Why don’t you just wear one of those tonight?” I thought back on the past seven years, and how this wasn't the first time he'd put me second for Rachel. For one of my birthdays, he gave me a cheap necklace from a street stall but bought Rachel a ruby necklace at a high-end auction. His excuse? “You’re an Alpha’s daughter; you already have everything. Rachel’s different.” When I was sick with a fever and needed him, he was busy comforting Rachel because she was afraid of the dark. He’d told me, “Rachel’s fragile and timid. She needs me more.” It happened over and over again. This time, I was finally done. The borrowed dress and the unfaithful man—I wanted neither.