Page 72 of Stronger Than Fate

An hour later I was entering Niky’s atelier. My friend was already a recognized fashion designer, and her designs were spectacular creations. Her atelier was also impressive. I knew from her that Henry had helped her set it up and had given her a significant amount of money to start the business. Niky was very grateful to her brother and admired and respected him greatly.

“Daliiiii, thank you for this,” my friend said when I entered her office, and she immediately came toward me and we embraced.

“Nothing to thank me for. I have a feeling it’s going to be fun.”

“I don’t think you’ll say that after standing for more than an hour barely moving, but I appreciate your effort,” she said, making a face.

“Don’t worry, I can do it. I hope the dress fits me.”

“It will fit you, I have no doubt. My client has a spectacular body like yours.”

“Thanks. What’s the dress like?” I asked, curious.

“Didn’t I tell you? It’s a wedding dress. You’re not superstitious, are you?” she asked, concerned.

“I’m not. I didn’t know you couldn’t try on a wedding dress.”

“No, I didn’t either. I’m just saying it in case because I’ve heard something about wedding dresses, but I don’t even know what they say. I don’t believe in those things,” she stated, dismissing it.

“I think the myth says the groom can’t see the dress before the wedding because it brings bad luck.”

“Perfect, then we don’t have a problem. Come, let me show it to you and you can try it on.”

When I saw the dress, I was stunned. It was a beautiful A-line dress with a beaded lace bodice; the plunging V-neckline was absolutely sinful, and the open back gave it a sensual touch. When Niky and the girls who worked with her started helping me put it on, it looked and felt so delicate that I was afraid I might tear it.

Once ready, I looked at myself in the mirror and was speechless. I didn’t recognize myself in that beautiful white dress. I had never imagined myself as a bride, and looking at my reflection, all I could see was a princess. I looked special and beautiful.

“Oh my goodness! It looks like it was made for you. You’re a sexy princess!” Niky exclaimed, and all her assistants nodded, staring at me in awe.

“I feel like a princess,” I said, smiling.

“We’ve never seen such a beautiful bride, and that’s without the rest of the accessories,” one of the girls said.

“It really does look like it was made for her,” Niky said. “It’s clear that I’ll be designing your wedding dress.”

“If I ever get married, I guarantee you’ll be the one making it,” I affirmed.

“Do you girls think this one won’t get married?” Niky asked, looking at the girls who were helping her.

“You’re beautiful. I’m sure if your boyfriend saw you, he’d ask you to marry him right away,” one of them said.

I looked at Niky but didn’t comment. I noticed my friend looking at me with compassion, but I smiled because I didn’t want her to feel bad.

After the initial impact of seeing myself, Niky and her assistants began the task of adjusting the dress, though I looked at it and thought it didn’t need anything more. We spent nearly an hour like this, and I was really starting to feel tired, especially because of the heels she had made me wear.

“I think we’re done!” Niky exclaimed happily. “Now I need you to walk so I can see how it looks when you move. Let’s go to the private runway next door.”

I walked very carefully, and we entered the room next to the one we were in, which was designed and decorated to be a runway where clients or models could showcase Niky’s spectacular creations.

“Wait here while I go get the camera I use to photograph my dresses,” Niky said. “Girls, come with me because I need to give you some instructions for the red dress we worked on today.”

They all left, leaving me alone in that room that looked ready for a fashion show. One of the walls had been transformed into a giant mirror, and I could observe myself carefully. I walked a little, looking at myself, and I truly understood why brides get emotional when they see themselves dressed like this. It wasn’t my dress, and I didn’t even have marriage in mind, but seeing myself in it gave me butterflies in my stomach.

“Why are you dressed as a bride? Are you getting married?” asked a very, very familiar and special voice.

If the dress had given me butterflies in my stomach, his voice made those butterflies invade my entire body, and I nearly fainted right there. Slowly, I turned until my eyes met his. He was standing in the doorway, looking at me in bewilderment.

“What are you doing here?” was all I could ask.