Before Hermia could respond the abrupt departure of her new friend, the guards surrounded Jasmine, ushering her out of the store.
She glanced back once, offering Hermia a mischievous wink before disappearing.
Hermia stood there, bewildered by the whirlwind of events.
She took a deep breath, steadying herself. She still needed to shop. After all, she had come here with a purpose, and she wasn't about to let this bizarre turn of events derail her entirely.
Start shopping!
The sound of approaching footsteps drew closer, pulling Hermia's attention from the door.
She turned to see a store attendant dressed impeccably in a crisp uniform, her appearance polished to perfection.
A neat kerchief tied around her neck gave her an air of authority, but her scrutinizing gaze betrayed a flicker of disdain as she sized up Hermia's simple attire.
Still, professionalism won out, and she forced a practiced smile.
"Welcome to Fluxy. What may I help you with?" the attendant said, her voice polite yet detached.
"I need a dress," Hermia replied, offering a small, friendly smile.
Before the attendant could respond, laughter cut through the air—a sharp, cruel sound that made Hermia's shoulders tense.
"Isn't that Selena's sister?" a mocking voice said, loud enough to carry across the store.
Hermia didn't have to look to know who it was. Sasha, Rachel, and Lola—three girls her age who were as wealthy as they were vicious.
Their perfect hair and designer clothes screamed privilege, and their scornful voices carried a venom that was all too familiar.
"Oh, no," Rachel chimed in with exaggerated surprise. "It's the illegitimate daughter!"
"The daughter of a slut," Lola added, her words laced with venom.
"Stop it," Sasha said with feigned concern, her lips curling into a smirk. "That's so callous." She giggled, as though mocking Hermia's existence was just another form of entertainment.
Hermia stiffened but kept her gaze forward, ignoring them. She followed the attendant deeper into the store, focusing on the racks of dresses the woman gestured toward.
Her eyes landed on a dress that stopped her in her tracks.
It was breathtaking—a cream-colored masterpiece with delicate pink accents that seemed to shimmer under the soft store lighting.
The design was elegant, almost magical, and for a moment, all the cruel voices faded into the background.
"Would you like to take a closer look?" the attendant asked, her tone softening as she noticed Hermia's awe.
She carefully removed the dress from the mannequin and handed it to Hermia, who took it reverently.
Hermia ran her fingers over the fabric, feeling its softness. She knew it would be expensive—far more than what she usually spent—but in that moment, she didn't care.
It would be worth it.
"What are you doing here?" Sasha's voice broke through again, shattering the brief tranquility.
Hermia turned, clutching the dress tighter in her hands. 'I don't have to reply this idiots, but they're not my sister, so why not?'
"Maybe she's looking for a job," Rachel sneered, her voice dripping with mockery.
"I'm not looking for a job," Hermia said sharply, her tone firm but restrained. She wasn't about to let them see how deeply their words stung. "I came to buy a dress, so why don't you jobless undergraduates go the other way?"
"A dress?" Lola scoffed, her perfectly manicured fingers brushing her hair back. "We don't need jobs or education to survive unlike you,"
Hermia laughed softly at their stupidity.
"Are you serious?" Rachel chimed in, her voice rising with incredulity. "Hermia, right? This isn't a thrift store. They don't have cheap sundresses like the one you're wearing here."
Hermia's stomach tightened. She glanced down at her simple dress, one she had saved for and loved for its comfort and charm. But now, under their gaze, it felt like a target.
What is this? she thought bitterly. Selena's absence had made her think she didn't have to to fend off any vultures, and now this was what she had to endure? Idiots?
"I'm here to get a dress and anything you say won't change the truth," Hermia retorted.
"You can't afford anything here. You should leave," Sasha said, crossing her arms as though her presence alone was a decree.
Hermia's lips pressed into a thin line, her frustration bubbling beneath her composed exterior. "What do you mean by that?" she asked, her voice cutting through the tension. "Why don't you let the attendant talk to me? Or do you work here now?"
Sasha's eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a sneer. "Don't talk to me like that, you nobody."
"And though you're from a big family," Rachel added with a smirk, "you're nothing important. Broke and useless."
Their words sliced through Hermia like knives, each one sharper than the last.
A small crowd began to gather, drawn by the commotion. The attendants exchanged uneasy glances but didn't dare intervene.
Hermia's gaze flickered back to the dress in her arms.
It was so beautiful, so perfect for the event she needed it for.
She thought of the times she had worked odd jobs, saving what little she could. These girls didn't know her struggles—they didn't know her at all.
"How much is it?" Hermia asked, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her.
The attendant hesitated, sensing the tension but eventually answered.
"I'll take it, tell me the price" she said firmly, refusing to let the smug expressions of the girls around her sway her decision.
For a moment, there was silence. Then Sasha scoffed, "You're going to embarrass yourself, Hermia."
"Hermia, don't bother. Your card will decline," Rachel sneered, her voice ringing out loud enough to draw more onlookers.
The small crowd of wealthy spectators began to murmur, their curiosity fueled by the unfolding drama. Hermia felt their gazes like daggers, each one piercing her already fragile composure.
"Tell me the price. I'm a potential customer," Hermia demanded, her voice sharp with defiance.
The attendant, who had been standing stiffly to the side, glanced nervously between Hermia and the jeering girls. "There's a tag, miss," she said, her tone lacking any sympathy, as if she too doubted Hermia's ability to buy the dress.
Clenching her teeth, Hermia forced herself to look down at the tag. Her breath hitched.
'Oh shit,'
The price might as well have been written in fire. It blazed in her mind, searing away any fantasies she'd had about walking out of the store with the cream-and-blue masterpiece.
Her fingers tightened around the fabric as if holding it tighter could make it hers.
Her spine went rigid, and a wave of humiliation swept over her.
She couldn't afford it.
Not without sacrificing nearly all of her savings—money she had carefully set aside from hours of work. Her chest tightened.
What was she thinking? Spending so much on a dress was reckless, foolish even.
But despite her practicality, the longing refused to let go.
She had imagined herself wearing it, just for a fleeting moment, standing tall and looking radiant despite the whispers and judgment.
Her throat felt dry as she gulped down the lump forming there.
This is embarrassing.
"There's a thrift store just about… oh, I don't know, a hundred miles away?" Rachel snickered.
Hermia's head snapped up, her pale face betraying her struggle to maintain her composure.
"Drop the dress and leave with whatever shred of dignity you have left," Lola chimed in, her voice syrupy sweet and utterly venomous.
"It's obvious you can't afford it," Sasha added with a scoff. "Why did you even come here in the first place?"
"This is a luxury boutique for actual rich people, Hermia."
Their words cut deep, not because they weren't true, but because Hermia hated how powerless she felt in the face of their cruelty.
She could think of no clever comeback, no sharp retort to silence their jeering laughter.
This was supposed to be her night.
A night she thought she could claim for herself, a moment where she could feel as though she belonged—even if it was just for a few hours.
But instead, it had turned into a nightmare, and she was the object of everyone's scorn.
The dress was exorbitant, yes.
Completely impractical. Just one night—it was just for one night, for her father, for the event he wanted her to attend.
If he truly cared, he should've provided her with something to wear instead of leaving her to fend for herself in a place she barely felt welcome in.
Her name was being dragged through the mud, repeated over and over in mocking tones, and she feared she'd soon become infamous in their circles—not only as Selena's hated sister, but as the girl who had embarrassed herself in a store far beyond her means.
"Miss," the attendant said, her voice gaining a sharp edge. Her hand stretched out toward Hermia. "If you can, please return the dress. It appears you cannot afford it, as they said."
Hermia felt her pride shatter into pieces as she swallowed hard.
Her fingers loosened reluctantly, and she stretched out her hand, holding the dress she had adored just moments ago.
It felt heavier than ever, as though it carried the weight of her humiliation.
But before the attendant could take it, a booming male voice cut through the air.
"Wait. She'll take the dress."