They both looked at me, and I saw the exact moment their expressions changed.
“Hello,” Jenna said cautiously. “Are you shopping for your daughter?”
“Or your granddaughter?” Kayla said, inspecting her nails.
“No,” I said, holding my smile, though I felt my entire body stiffen. “I’m shopping for myself.”
That got Kayla’s attention.
“Wait! You’re the bride?” Jenna asked, her eyebrows raised.
“I am,” I said.
For a heartbeat, they didn’t respond. Then Kayla let out a quick laugh and glanced at Jenna. I ignored them. I wasn’t there for their approval.
I was there for the dress.
“Wow,” Kayla chuckled, her lips curving like she was trying not to laugh outright. “That’s… brave of you.”
“I’m looking for something simple,” I said, lifting my chin slightly. “Maybe lace, or something soft and flowy.”
“We could show you some of our more comfortable pieces,” Jenna said, her arms folded. “We have some looser styles from last season that are usually more flattering for… mature brides.”
Mature.
I’d heard that word used in commercials for vitamins and age-restricted dating apps. It was a word people used when they didn’t want to say old.
Kayla leaned toward her, whispering behind the back of her hand, but still loud enough for me to hear.
“Maybe we should check the grandmother-of-the-bride section.”
They both laughed loudly, and I felt the blood rush to my ears.
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