CHAPTER 2: THE WEDDING DRESS

The mirrors surrounded me like a hall of funhouse judges, reflecting a stranger from every angle. Her skin, pale and translucent as rice paper, was pulled taut over sharp cheekbones. The dark hollows beneath her eyes were a testament to sleepless nights, to a future that felt less like a dream and more like a sentence. The wedding dress—a pristine creation of ivory silk and French lace—hung on her frame like expensive armor. It was beautiful. It was cold. It was perfect for a transaction disguised as a sacrament.

"It's absolutely stunning on you, dear." The boutique assistant, Vivian, adjusted the bodice with hands that were too familiar, too possessive. "Mr. Blake certainly has exquisite taste." Her voice was a bright, professional hum.

I didn't respond, my gaze locked on the stranger in the central mirror. The neckline was lower than I’d ever choose, the silk hugging curves I’d always ignored. Every stitch seemed designed to transform me, to mold me into someone else's idea of a bride. A tremor ran through my hands. This was a costume. A very expensive costume for a play I was being forced to perform.

"The measurements were perfect," Vivian continued, circling me like a hawk. "He knew your exact size—height, bust, waist, hips. He said he’d been... observing you for some time." She laughed, a light, tinkling sound that grated on my nerves. "Men in love notice everything, don't they?"

My breath caught in my throat, a sharp, ragged sound. "He brought in measurements?" My voice was a ghost.

"Oh yes, last week. Knew everything down to your shoe size." Vivian’s smile was beatific. "Most grooms just guess, but Mr. Blake... he was very specific. Very thorough."

The air in the fitting room suddenly felt too thick to breathe. He’d been watching me. Studying my body. Planning this moment while I was still drowning in Kyle's fabricated medical bills, still believing I had choices. The walls, once a soothing cream, now felt like they were closing in on me, trapping me in a box of his design.

I fumbled for the tiny pearl buttons that ran up the back of the dress. "I need some air." My fingers clawed at them, each one feeling like a shackle being fastened.

"But we haven't finished the final adjustments—"

"It's fine. It's perfect." The words were clipped, sharp with desperation. "Just... box it up."

The buttons were impossibly small, a delicate line of them from the base of my spine to the nape of my neck, designed for someone else’s fingers. I couldn't get them. My hands trembled with the effort, the tremors sending a familiar phantom scent to my nostrils—antiseptic and fear. The smell of a white room, a place where everything hurt and nothing made sense.

*White sheets. White walls. The burn unit at Children’s Hospital. I was so small the bed seemed enormous, drowning in starched linens that smelled of industrial soap and despair. The bandages on my hands felt like casts. But someone had been there in the white room with me. Not Kyle—he was somewhere else, recovering from his supposed heroic injuries. Someone else. Someone who held my bandaged hand when the nightmares came.*

*"Who are you?" My voice, a weak whisper, rasped in the stillness. I tried to see the face that belonged to the gentle voice, but smoke damage had left my eyes watery and weak. All I could make out was a silhouette—dark hair, careful hands that never let go even when the nurses tried to make them leave. "Are you an angel?"*

*"I'll stay with you, little star," the voice had murmured against my hair, the words a promise more potent than any medicine. "You're safe. I promise you're safe now." The hands, warm and certain, guided my shaking, bandaged fingers over the bedsheet. "I'm not an angel. I'm just… someone who owes you everything."*

"Miss Chen? Are you quite all right?"

I was back in the fitting room, somehow dressed in my street clothes though I didn't remember changing. Vivian hovered at my elbow, her professionally trained concern making me feel exposed.

"Pre-wedding nerves," the lie slid off my tongue with practiced ease. "Just overwhelmed by how... beautiful it is."

She beamed, completely missing the hollowness in my voice. "Oh, I completely understand. It's such a momentous occasion. But don't you worry—Mr. Blake seems absolutely devoted. The way he spoke about you when he ordered the dress..." She sighed dreamily. "It's clear you mean the world to him."

Mean the world to him. The man who had supposedly tormented my teenage years just by existing, who reminded him daily of whatever twisted game we'd been trapped in since childhood. The irony felt like dust in my mouth.

I signed the receipt with numb fingers—another signature, another step toward the altar where I'd promise my life to a man whose motives I couldn't begin to understand. The pen felt heavy, final, like a brand.

Outside the boutique, the afternoon sun assaulted my senses, too bright and harsh after the muted elegance inside. I fumbled for my sunglasses, my hands still trembling from the phantom touch of those pearl buttons.

My phone buzzed against my palm. Kyle.

**Kyle:** *How was dress shopping, angel? I've been thinking about you all day. You'll be the most beautiful bride. ♥*

Angel. The endearment should warm me, but instead, it crawled across my skin like ice. There was a possessive air about the way he used pet names, like he was marking territory.

**Aria:** *It's just a dress.*

His response was immediate, as if he'd been waiting by his phone.

**Kyle:** *Nothing about you is 'just' anything, Aria. You're special. You've always been special to me. Tomorrow changes nothing between us. ♥*

I stared at the message, at the heart emoji that felt more like a brand than affection. Tomorrow changes nothing? What did that even mean? I was getting married, moving into another man's house, carrying another man's child. Everything changes.

**Aria:** *Everything changes, Kyle. That's the point.*

**Kyle:** *No, angel. The important things stay the same. You and me. What we've been through together. What you owe me. That's forever. ♥*

What I owe him. Even now, on the eve of my wedding to another man, he was reminding me of the debt that chained me to him. The debt I was supposedly paying off by selling my womb to Damien Blake.

I deleted the entire conversation and shoved my phone deep into my purse. The wedding dress waited in its pristine white garment bag, beautiful and perfect and designed to transform me into a bride. Tomorrow I'd put it on and walk down an aisle toward a man whose eyes held secrets I wasn't sure I wanted to uncover.

But tonight, I'd dream of gentle hands and a cracked voice whispering comfort in a white hospital room, and wonder why my heart recognized a melody my mind had forgotten.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***