Shonee’s POV
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, unable to comprehend the sight before me.
Breath-taking.
That was the only word good enough to describe how I looked and felt in the designer outfit.
It was a masterpiece of design and craftsmanship, a symphony of elegance woven into every thread. As I ran my hands over my midsection, the tactile sensation of the fabric beneath my fingertips sent shivers of delight coursing through me. My fingers traced the delicate lace detailing, each intricate pattern a testament to the skill of the artisans who crafted it.
The off-shoulder style left my neck and shoulders bare, inviting a gentle caress of the breeze against my skin. The neckline, adorned with subtle embellishments, added a touch of understated glamour to the ensemble. With every movement, the soft, shimmering feathers at the bottom of the gown swayed gracefully, creating a mesmerizing dance of light and shadow.
Honestly, I felt like a living, breathing version of Cinderella. All I was missing were some glass slippers and my ensemble will be complete.
As I stood before the mirror, enveloped in the exquisite creation, I couldn't help but feel like a vision of timeless beauty. The gown seemed to have a life of its own, flowing effortlessly around me as if it were made specifically for this moment. So this is what it would feel like if I was the one going to marry Vincent.
Lost in the beauty of my daydream, my heart nearly jumped out of my chest when a knock came rattling through my door.
“Shonee, it’s Audra,” she yelled from the other side. “Madam Avril wants you downstairs in the next five minutes.”
“Ok, I’ll be there soon,” I responded. Reluctantly, I tore my gaze away from the mirror and made my way back to the living room, where Avril and her friends, Hayley and Cheyanne, awaited.
The shop attendant had already returned and stood flatly in the Louis Vuitton gown that threatened to drown her in the full skirt.
Carefully, as I made my descent down the stairs, all their jaws dropped in awe as they caught sight of me, and I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of discomfort under their scrutinizing gaze.
Seriously, it was so unnerving that I tripped on the last stair, and would have fallen face down if Avril hadn’t caught me in time.
“Whoa,” she pushed me back onto my feet. “Be careful, this dress costs more than your life!”
“Sorry,” I shrugged, pushing a loose braid to the side.
Her eyes glazed over my frame a second time, probably in admiration, before she instructed, “Go stand next to her.”
I took my place near the shop attendant, granting the bridal team the opportunity to look at each dress side by side.
“So, Hayley, still think fairytale romance is better than stand-out worthy?” Cheyanne cocked her head to the side with a mock grin.
Hayley just rolled her eyes.
“I have to admit,” Avril circled us, studying both dresses intently. “I had high hopes for the Louis Vuitton gown in terms of uniqueness, but seeing it on her…” Avril paused, her tone dripping with condescension as she gestured towards the attendant, “It’s like putting lipstick on a pig.”
Cheyanne laughed out loud while Hayley shook her head.
The shop attendant's face flushed with embarrassment, but she maintained her composure, her professionalism unwavering.
Meanwhile, I stood beside her, feeling a mix of sympathy and discomfort at Avril's callous remark. It was clear that Avril's priorities lay more in flaunting her wealth and status rather than considering the feelings of others.
As my boss continued to deliberate between the dresses, I couldn't help but feel a surge of indignation on behalf of the shop attendant. No one deserved to be belittled in such a manner, especially not someone who was simply doing her job.
Eventually, Avril made her decision, settling on the Atelier Versace FW18 gown that I wore. With a sense of relief, I excused myself to return upstairs and change out of the dress, eager to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the living room.
I had just made it up the stairs, heading straight for my room when I heard, “Shonee.”
“Mirasol?” She stood about three doors away, so I drew closer. “What are you doing here? Are you done with your pastel artwork?”
“Yeah.” She looked up at me with big, doe eyes and smiled. “You look so pretty,” she exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine admiration.
Her innocent compliment warmed my heart. “Thank you.”
But her next words caught me off guard.
“I wish you were the one marrying my dad... I don’t like Avril,” she said earnestly, her eyes searching mine for a response.
My heart skipped a beat as I struggled to find the right words, torn between the forbidden love that bound me to her father and the facade I had to maintain for the sake of appearances.
“Oh Mirasol, come here.” With a forced smile, I pulled her into a warm hug, my mind and heart racing with conflicting emotions.