Struggling with her stocking, Alise stumbled unexpectedly, landing awkwardly on the floor. Her skirt was disheveled, one stocking halfway up her leg, while the other had a mind of its own. Instead of frustration, Alise couldn't help but burst into laughter at her clumsiness.
Amidst her laughter, she quickly picked herself up, unfazed by her slightly disheveled appearance. Her mother's persistent messages reminded her of their affluence and the importance of the situation, leaving no room for delay.
Abandoning her unfinished stockings, she hastily began piecing herself together. Her skirt smoothed, her blouse buttoned, and she frantically searched for her shoes.
Alise's phone buzzed with a new message: "Alise, time is running out! I'm waiting in the car. Hurry!"
With a final glance in the mirror, she grabbed her essentials, including her phone, and dashed downstairs. Her impatient mother awaited her by the car, tapping her foot in frustration.
"Finally!" her mother exclaimed as Alise approached. "We can't afford any delays. The wedding preparations are in full swing, and we need to get you fitted for that dress."
Alise nodded, urgency coursing through her veins as she promptly entered the car. To her surprise, Neva was already inside. She took her seat, and their mother instructed the driver to depart.
In the car, Alise cast a discreet glance at Neva, who sat with her arms crossed, a veil of disapproval in her eyes. The silence between them lingered, filled with unspoken tensions.
Despite Neva's reservations about the impending marriage, her presence was a testament to her support for her sister. The unspoken tension between them, a mix of concern and love, hung in the air as the car finally pulled up to an exclusive and opulent bridal atelier. Her mother and Neva ushered her inside.
The opulent interior featured floor-to-ceiling mirrors that reflected crystal chandeliers and elegant wedding gowns. Soft, gentle lighting created an ethereal atmosphere. A consultant greeted them with a smile and led them to a private fitting room, where exquisite dresses adorned in intricate lace, shimmering beadwork, and flowing silks hung.
The seasoned bridal consultant warmly smiled at Alise and Neva. She began by asking, "So, which of you is the bride?"
Alise nodded and replied, "I am."
The consultant then said with a friendly tone, "Congratulations, Alise. I'm here to help you find the perfect gown for your special day."
The consultant's cheerful demeanor during the fitting made Alise feel uncomfortable. Although it was her wedding dress fitting, she knew it was far from a celebration of love.
She was using it as an opportunity to start over, a way to escape the recent betrayal she had experienced. Amidst the bridal preparations, she couldn't help but feel discomfort, a reminder of the unconventional circumstances surrounding her marriage.
The consultant, unaware of the complex emotions within Alise, remained committed to her task.
With enthusiasm, she showcased various wedding gown options, explaining the intricate details, elegant fabrics, and design elements of each dress.
The goal was to make this experience as perfect as possible for the bride-to-be, focusing on the beauty and craftsmanship of the gowns she presented.
As the consultant enthusiastically showcased the dress her mother had chosen, explaining its intricate details, elegant fabrics, and design elements that made it special, Alise listened attentively. However, she didn't hold high expectations for the wedding itself.
She didn't care to let her parents handle all the other details and arrangements. However, the dress she was getting fitted for didn't align with her vision or taste.
For Alise, this decision was clear. Her strong-willed nature had always guided her towards choices that matched her desires.
She was resolute in her independence and never allowed others to sway her decisions. So, when it came to something she didn't like, it was instinctual for her to choose what she truly desired.
Alise expressed her rejection of the dress and noticed her Mother's irritation became evident, and tension quickly filled the room.
"Why are you being so difficult, Alise?" her mother exclaimed, her voice strained with irritation. "I thought this dress was beautiful. What's wrong with it?"
Alise, equally irritated, responded firmly, "Um, I just don't think it's for me. It's not something I would wear. I want something elegant. We don't have the same tastes in clothes. And that's fine. I didn't mind if you guys chose anything else for the wedding. But the dress, what I'm wearing, that should at least look good."
"You're being stubborn, don't see what's wrong with the dress I chose. You should wear it. We're running low on time. We only have a day left, you know. Besides, it would look great at your wedding," her mother asserted firmly.
Alise sighed in frustration. She despised it when others put pressure and imposed their opinions on her. She had already made it clear that she didn't like the dress, and that should have been reason enough for her mother to let it go, but she did not.
Alise sighed and firmly asserted, "I'm not wearing that. I know how much time I have left, and at this point, I'll choose anything as long as it's not that." She placed her hands on her hips and turned away from the dress.
Her mother struggled to understand her daughter's perspective, and as she was about to continue, Neva stepped in. Her patience had worn thin, and she couldn't stand to see them argue any longer.
"Just let her choose the dress she wants. Why does it matter? On your wedding day, you got to choose the dress you wanted. So at this point, you either want to see her get married, or you don't. Because we're not getting anywhere."
As the weight of Neva's words hung in the air, it left a poignant reminder on her. She realized that Alise was doing what she had done back then when her mother-in-law had imposed on her wedding dress choice.
She looked at Alise, and the realization hit her hard. How the tables had turned; she was now acting like her mother-in-law had back then, trying to force that dress onto Alise.
Feeling a sense of guilt and understanding, she suddenly said, "I'll respect whatever you choose."
Alise gave her mother a silent nod, and the lady, caught in the middle, awkwardly presented her with various other dress options. The room remained tense, with Alise still noticeably upset. She resented having choices forced upon her and longed for the same respect she showed for others' opinions.
As Alise swiftly sifted through the rack of dress options, her fingers brushed against the fabric of one particular dress, and in that fleeting moment, a spark of intrigue ignited in her eyes.