el

the gown. Her movements were quick but careful, her brow furrowed with concentration as she muttered curses under her breath. The fabric bunched awkwardly as she worked, and I struggled to stay still, my heart pounding

s of her voice. She tugged at the next button, her nails scraping against the delicate fabric. The tension

with nerves. I swallowed hard, trying to keep myself groun

r way of grounding me. Sophie always had a knack for cutting through the chaos

y ribs like a drumbeat, each thud making my legs feel weaker and more unsteady. I was terrified that at any moment my body would betray m

fabric. It pooled at my feet in a glittering pile, a discarded dream that had once seemed so perfect but now felt like a nightmare. I stepped out of it

a pair of jeans and a sweater into my hands. I glanced at t

d to ask, but she cut me

her voice brooking no argument

nd it smelled faintly of lavender and detergent. The scent was comforting, almost nostalgic, like something from a simpler time. The jeans were a little baggy, but I barely noticed. The mo

ed with the laces, the adrenaline still coursing through me making even the simplest tasks feel m

whether I could pass for someone who wasn't supposed to be walking down the aisle of an extravagant wedding ri

It didn't quite reach my eyes, but it was the best I c

ed on my shoulder, its familiar weight grounding me in the moment. It wasn't much, just a sm

hie asked, her voice sh

ready running through the contents of my wallet.

lize you're gone, that's the first thing they'll check. They'll tra

were like a lifeline, giving me clear instructions whe

er usual confidence wavered, and for the first time, I saw the f

No. Not even a little. Every fiber of my being was screaming with uncertainty. But what was the alternative? Staying

out. My voice sounded firmer than I fe

in her eyes, only quiet understanding. "Okay," she said softly. "Then you'd better go. I

out to do hitting me all at once. I glanced at Sophie,

aid, my voice th

e tinged with wry humor. "Do you even have

small, sheepish laugh. "N

s affection in the gesture. "Figu

was small and shaky, but it was real. "I'll figure it out," I sai

ousness returning. "Now *that* I can help wit

ut it lightened, becoming something I could carry. I didn't know where I was going or what would happen ne

on me like an invisible force. The hallway outside was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that felt almost unnatural in a house this grand and full of people. Somewhere far below, I could hear the faint

last time. My voice wavered, thick with gratitude and the bitter

. "Go," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "Before I change my mind and drag you ba

d, the door clicking shut behind me. My heart was pounding so hard now it felt like a drum

d then started down the hallway, each step feeli