009

Today felt different. I stood on the small platform in the middle of the bridal studio, the ivory gown hugging my waist like it had been stitched with my name in mind. The mirror in front of me reflected someone I barely recognized. I looked sharp, in control. The dress flowed effortlessly to the floor, a soft shimmer beneath the light, delicate lace trailing over my arms. The bridal designer circled me slowly, adjusting the sleeves and smoothing out the fabric. "It fits like it was made for you," she said, her tone clipped but impressed. "Timeless. Sharp. A dress for a woman who doesn't beg, but commands." I nodded, barely speaking. I couldn't take my eyes off the mirror. Not because of the dress, but because I had seen myself like this before. In a wedding dress. But I look different, I feel different. I don't feel any burden in my chest. I don't feel scared like I’m making a wrong decision like I did before. Then the door opened behind me. I didn't have to turn to know who it was. I saw his reflection appear beside mine in the mirror. Benjamin, wearing a black T-shirt tucked into tailored trousers, sleeves rolled halfway up his arms, his watch catching the light. Calm, quiet. His eyes landed on me and stayed there. "You'll shut down the whole city in that dress," he said. I smirked, turning slightly. "That's the goal!" That made him smile a little. The bridal designer stepped back to give him space. "We still have two more dresses to try, if you're ready." Benjamin moved closer, slow steps, hands tucked in his pockets. He was looking at me like we weren't in a room full of mannequins and silk, like it was just us. "You wanna try the others?" he asked me. I shrugged, holding his gaze. "Only if you'll stay." "I'll stay," he said, no hesitation. The second dress was even softer, with a deep neckline, scattered pearls around the chest, and a slightly longer train. As soon as I stepped out of the fitting room, his eyes traveled from the floor up to my face, and something changed in his posture. He didn't speak immediately. He just looked. "Yeah," he finally said, voice lower this time. "That's the one." There was something about the way he said it. It wasn't just about the dress. And I felt it too, whatever it was building slowly between us. The consultant clapped her hands once. "Alright, we've got a winner." I followed her toward the accessories section. A younger attendant approached with a velvet tray of necklaces, earrings, and rings. "You'll want something delicate to match that neckline," she said cheerfully. "Here, try this." She handed me a diamond choker, simple and elegant. I tried to fasten it, but my fingers fumbled. "Let me," Benjamin said. I moved my hair to the side. He stepped behind me, carefully taking the necklace. His fingers brushed my skin as he clasped it. I could not breathe. Damn, what's wrong with me? He didn't speak, and I didn't move. His hands lingered a second too long before he stepped back. Our eyes met again in the mirror. The girl attending to us smiled. "You two look perfect together." Benjamin didn't look away. "Yes, can't wait for her to be my wife." I blinked. I felt my heart pounding so loudly that they might hear it. The word hit something I wasn't ready to name. She handed me matching earrings. Our fingers touched when I took them, and neither of us pulled away immediately. Later, we tried on rings. My hand brushed his again. The moment was small, but it burned. I was beginning to wonder what this feeling was, and if I’m ready for it. Once we were done, I changed out of the dress and we left the studio together. The sun was beginning to dip lower. We passed a small café. Without a word, Benjamin stopped and walked in. He came back with two drinks, a chilled Coke, and handed me one. Exactly how I liked it. "You know my favorite drink," I asked. He gave a short nod, barely smiling. "You always ordered this in college. I used to watch." I stared at him. "You really were watching me all that time?" "Every damn day," he said softly. The ride back was quiet and awkward. I kept sneaking glances at him as he drove. His jaw was tight, his hand resting lazily on the wheel. I could still feel his fingers on the back of my neck. Then he asked, "Are you nervous about the wedding?" "Yes. But not about marrying you," I said, before I could stop myself. He looked over at me, his brows twitching just slightly. Then he smiled, not wide, like he was trying to hide it. "Great." As we drove home, the city lights passed us slowly. I looked out the window for a while, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the way he touched the necklace. The way he said "my wife" like it meant more than just a title. Then, slowly, I felt it. His hand reached across the gearshift and gently covered mine. Not demanding. Just a simple, soft, quiet gesture. I looked down, surprised at first, then up at him. He didn't say anything. He kept his eyes on the road, like nothing had changed. But his thumb brushed lightly against my skin once, maybe twice. And still... he didn't let go. My heart skipped, but I stayed still. I didn't pull away either. I didn't think I wanted to.