Before I could respond to the abrupt departure of Jasmine, the guards surrounded her, ushering her out of the store like she was some sort of criminal. She only glanced back once, offering me a mischievous wink before disappearing beyond the glass doors.
And just like that, I was alone again.
I stood there for a moment, trying to process the whirlwind of events. A deep breath in, then out. I still needed to shop. I came here for a reason, and I wasn't about to let this ridiculous detour throw me off course.
The sharp click of heels against marble floors broke my thoughts. I looked up to see a store attendant approaching me, her uniform pristine, with a silk kerchief tied neatly around her neck. Every inch of her appearance was carefully curated — polished, perfect — but her gaze flicked over my simple dress with a subtle hint of disdain.
She smiled — professional, forced. "Welcome to Fluxy. What may I help you with?"
I straightened my shoulders, keeping my voice calm and steady. "I need a dress."
Her smile didn't falter, but something in her eyes shifted, a quiet judgment I was all too familiar with.
Then, like poison seeping into an open wound, I heard it.
Laughter. Cruel. Sharp. The kind of sound that made my stomach twist.
"Isn't that Selena's sister?" The voice was loud enough for the whole store to hear, dripping with mockery.
I didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
Sasha. Rachel. Lola.
Their presence felt like a slap to the face — three girls my age, draped in designer clothes, their hair perfectly styled, their lives effortlessly gilded. I could almost smell the privilege radiating off them.
"Oh no," Rachel's voice oozed fake surprise. "It's the illegitimate daughter."
Lola's words struck harder. "The daughter of a slut."
My jaw clenched.
"Stop it," Sasha said with a sly smirk, pretending to scold her friends. "That's so callous." She giggled, as if tormenting me was just another part of their afternoon entertainment.
I kept my gaze forward. Ignoring them was the best move — the only move. I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing me flinch.
"Follow me," the attendant said, clearly uncomfortable but unwilling to speak up. She led me deeper into the store, where the racks of expensive dresses stood like a silent army between me and my humiliation.
Then, I saw it.
A dress.
No — the dress.
Cream-colored with soft pink accents, delicate and shimmering under the boutique lights. It looked like something out of a dream, elegant and timeless. For a brief moment, the insults, the snickers — all of it faded into the background.
The world shrank down to me and the dress.
"Would you like to take a closer look?" the attendant asked, her tone softening when she noticed the way I stared at it.
"Yes," I whispered.
She carefully removed the dress from the mannequin, placing it in my hands. The fabric was impossibly soft beneath my fingertips. I already knew it would be expensive — probably way out of my price range — but for once, I didn't care.
I wanted it.
I deserved to want something beautiful.
But, of course, reality wasn't about to let me have a single moment of peace.
"What are you doing here?" Sasha's voice sliced through the air again, louder this time.
I turned, still clutching the dress. My heart pounded against my ribs.
"Maybe she's looking for a job," Rachel sneered.
I smiled thinly, forcing my voice to stay steady. "I'm not looking for a job. I came to buy a dress." I tilted my head, giving them a saccharine smile. "Why don't you jobless undergraduates go the other way?"
Lola's perfectly manicured hand flew to her hair, her lips parting in a mock gasp. "We don't need jobs or education to survive — unlike you."
I laughed softly, shaking my head at their stupidity. "Seriously?"
Rachel's voice pitched higher with incredulity. "Hermia, right? This isn't a thrift store. They don't have cheap sundresses like the one you're wearing here."
I glanced down at my dress — simple, sure, but mine. It wasn't designer, but I'd saved for it, and it was comfortable. But under their blistering gazes, it suddenly felt like an open wound.
What the hell is this?
Selena's absence was supposed to mean freedom — at least a break from having to fend off the vultures circling her. But here I was, standing in a luxury boutique, surrounded by idiots who seemed hell-bent on tearing me down.
"I'm here to get a dress," I said evenly, "and anything you say won't change that."
"You can't afford anything here," Sasha said, crossing her arms like she ruled the damn store. "You should leave."
My patience snapped.
"What do you mean by that?" I shot back, my voice sharper now. "Why don't you let the attendant talk to me? Or do you work here now?"
Sasha's lips curled into a sneer. "Don't talk to me like that, you nobody."
"And though you're from a big family," Rachel added, smirking, "you're nothing important. Broke and useless."
Their words hit like tiny daggers, each one sharper than the last.
I felt the crowd gathering now — rich spectators drawn by the promise of drama. The store attendants exchanged uneasy glances, none of them daring to intervene.
I tightened my hold on the dress.
It was so perfect. Exactly what I needed for the event. For him.
I thought of every odd job I'd worked, every dollar I'd scraped together. These girls didn't know my struggle. They didn't know anything about me.
"How much is it?" I asked, my voice steady even though my heart was about to hammer its way out of my chest.
The attendant hesitated, then spoke carefully.
"I'll take it," I said quickly, before I could think better of it. "Just tell me the price."
Silence.
Sasha let out a short, bitter laugh. "You're going to embarrass yourself, Hermia."
Rachel's voice rang out again, loud and clear. "Your card's going to decline."
I felt every pair of eyes in the store shift to me. Their whispers buzzed like flies, dissecting me, waiting for me to crumble.
"Tell me the price," I demanded, my voice cutting through the noise. "I'm a potential customer."
The attendant's jaw tightened, her gaze flicking between me and the grinning trio. "There's a tag, miss."
My heart pounded as I glanced down at it.
Oh shit.
The number was seared into my brain — way beyond what I could afford. It wasn't just expensive. It was a reckless, impossible price.
I tightened my grip on the dress as though holding it closer would somehow make it mine.
My chest constricted, and humiliation burned through me like a slow fire. I couldn't afford it. Not without sacrificing nearly everything I had saved.
This was stupid. Reckless.
But I still wanted it.
Even as I heard Rachel snicker again. "There's a thrift store about a hundred miles away, if you run fast enough."
My fingers trembled around the delicate fabric.
"Just put it back, Hermia," Lola crooned, her voice sweet but deadly. "Before you humiliate yourself even more."
I hated how powerless I felt.
This night was supposed to be mine. A chance to step into something beautiful — to show up at the event and look like I belonged.
But now, I was a joke.
"Miss," the attendant said, her voice sharper now. "Please return the dress. As they said, it seems you can't afford it."
My pride cracked — a painful, humiliating fracture.
I loosened my grip on the dress, stretching my hand out to give it back, but then—
A deep, commanding voice echoed through the boutique.
"Wait."
The world went still.
"She'll take the dress."