“I was hoping to see a catalog,” I said, a little quieter now. I could feel my voice trying to fold in on itself. “And then maybe look through the racks.”
Jenna sighed dramatically, then flipped open a glossy binder on the counter.
“Most of these are form-fitting,” she said. “But sure. Go ahead. Take a look.”
I turned the pages slowly, refusing to let them see my trembling hands. My eyes caught on a dress with soft lace sleeves and a gentle A-line silhouette. It was ivory and delicate without being fussy.
I could imagine myself in it — standing at our makeshift altar, Henry’s eyes lighting up when he saw me.
“That one,” I said, tapping the photo. “That’s the one I want to see.”
“That’s a mermaid cut,” Kayla said as she burst out laughing. “It’s really fitted. It doesn’t exactly… forgive curves or sagging… parts.”
She gestured loosely toward her own waist, then shot me a quick smile that wasn’t really a smile at all.
“I’d still like to try it on,” I replied, my voice firmer now.
Jenna disappeared into the back room without a word. I stood there in the silence she’d left behind, trying not to look at the mirrors lining the boutique walls.
She returned a moment later, the dress hanging limply from one hand.
“Here you go,” she said, dangling it like it might fall apart. “Try not to snag it, please.”
I took it gently and walked to the fitting room. The lighting inside was cool-toned and unkind, casting pale shadows across my skin. I stood for a long moment, holding the dress against me before slipping it over my head.
As I adjusted the bodice, I could almost hear Paul’s voice teasing me playfully — asking if I was going to cry. I imagined Henry’s hands as he smoothed my scarf that morning, his eyes crinkling with that same smile he always gave me: the one that said, I see you, Marlene.
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