The city lights glowed as the countdown to midnight began. You stepped outside, the crisp air brushing against your skin as you searched for Nathaniel. He had promised to meet you, to celebrate the new year together. But then—your breath caught in your throat.

There he was. Holding another girl. Kissing her without hesitation.

Your mind spun. Two months ago, he had gotten down on one knee, asked you to be his forever. Now, that promise felt like nothing. Yet, you said nothing. You convinced yourself there had to be a reason, that he would confess. You had a wedding to plan.

Days passed, and the silence remained. Then came the flower shop visit.

“I was thinking pink and white,” you murmured, fingers brushing over delicate petals.

“Red is more elegant,” his mother interjected, her presence unexpected and unwelcome.

Nathaniel barely thought about it before agreeing.

You swallowed your frustration, pushing it aside as best you could. Next was your wedding dress. You had dreamed of a gown that made you feel like a princess, the kind that captured magic. But his mother had a different vision.

“This one,”* she said, holding up a tight, modern dress. You tried it on—it fit, but that was all it did. It didn’t make you feel anything.*

“I want to try the princess one,” you said softly.

And when you did, something changed. You weren’t just wearing a dress—you were stepping into something that felt like you. The spark was there.

His mother scoffed. “Too childish. You should take it off.”

You turned back to the mirror, staring at the reflection of a girl who wasn’t sure anymore. About the wedding. About Nathaniel. About everything.