Wicked Husband-Chapter 40 - 39

No response. Only stunned silence, punctuated by wide, unblinking eyes. Eileen, having revealed her face in a desperate attempt to de-escalate, felt a familiar pang of shame. ’They’ll probably want me to cover up,’ she thought, bracing for the judgment.

The eyes her mother deemed grotesque, the very features that sparked her disgust. Eileen fought the urge to retreat, took a deep, steadying breath, then raised a hand to her hair. With a practiced motion, she removed the hairpin, letting her bangs cascade down, obscuring her vision. This was the safe haven she knew best.

The silence in the boutique shattered, not with a gasp, but with a collective sigh of "...Good heavens."

A collective sigh, heavy with relief, became the starting pistol. The boutique, once cloaked in despair, thrummed with newfound energy. The owners, who’d been locked in a heated debate, now collaborated with an almost preternatural ease.

"Pure and innocent, that’s it! Like a vision out of a fairytale," one exclaimed, her voice ringing with excitement. "This is perfect for an outdoor ceremony."

"We can simply swap the sleeves on the existing dress for delicate lace. Let’s add a touch of whimsy to keep it from feeling overly traditional."

"Chiffon, absolutely! We need a fabric that dances in the slightest breeze."

"Finally, you’re saying something useful."

Rapid-fire instructions, laced with specialized terminology, flew between the owners and the staff who scurried to execute them with practiced efficiency. The woman in the ornate gown, her voice laced with urgency, commanded, "Get a hairstylist here immediately!"

A staff member bolted out the door, urgency echoing in their movements. The woman in the vibrant dress, with a gentle hand on Eileen’s arm, introducing herself belatedly.

"You can call me by the boutique’s name."

Eileen’s reflection mocked her from the mirror, eliciting a hollow laugh. It was a stark reminder of why she’d avoided reflective surfaces for so long.

The woman in the crisp, understated outfit was Beleza. Her vibrant counterpart was Rosetto. And the one in the elaborately patterned dress? That was Brillante. Despite their wildly differing tastes – a fact underscored by their snippy introductions – they were now united in a common purpose: transforming Eileen into a radiant bride.

Under their watchful eyes, Eileen slipped into the dress tucked away in the boutique’s back room. "Leave your bangs pinned for now, the stylist will be here soon," one of them instructed. Another tightened the waist gently, prompting, "Inhale, please." A third chimed in, "And let’s see how these lace gloves look on your arms."

A barrage of instructions left Eileen feeling like a meticulously dressed doll, her every move orchestrated by unseen hands. Finally, they stepped back, their faces a mixture of awe and something deeper. Rosetto, her prior frivolity replaced by a solemn expression, declared, "You will be a bride the Empire will never forget."

With gentle hands, they guided her out of the makeshift changing area. Diego, engrossed in conversation with a staff member, whirled around at the sound of approaching footsteps. His eyes widened, momentarily stealing his voice. Finally, he managed a stammered, "You look...breathtaking." 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

Diego’s praise continued, a torrent of words that betrayed his struggle to fully express his awe. Each compliment sent a blush creeping up Eileen’s neck. Beleza, with a gentle hand, turned her towards the mirror. Yet, Eileen’s gaze remained fixed on the floor.

Years had passed since she’d last confronted a full reflection. This act, mundane for most, demanded a reservoir of courage she wasn’t sure she possessed. ’Everyone says I look beautiful,’ she thought, the words echoing in her mind.

Despite suspicion that their compliments were meant to bolster her confidence, their genuine warmth kindled a flicker of hope within her. Maybe, adorned in this exquisite gown, she wasn’t entirely repulsive after all. Steeling herself, Eileen took a deep breath and hesitantly lifted her gaze. The mirror reflected her back, and for a moment, silence reigned.

A hollow laugh escaped her lips, a stark reminder of why she’d ostracized reflective surfaces for so long. The elegant dress and the outpouring of kindness couldn’t erase the ingrained self-criticism that had haunted her for years. In the mirror, she saw not the breathtaking vision they described, but the imperfections that fueled her insecurities.

The reflection in the mirror was a grotesque caricature, a child’s nightmare scrawled with black crayon. It devoured the beauty of the dress, leaving only a monstrous visage staring back. ’Even if I wanted to,’ a hollow thought echoed, ’I couldn’t see my own face.’

Years of self-imposed exile from mirrors, fueled by her mother’s cruelty, had warped Eileen’s perception. Her eyes functioned perfectly, yet her mind had constructed a distorted prison. Fixing it seemed a daunting task, one she’d willfully ignored for so long. The reflection confirmed her deepest fears, a monstrous mockery that fueled her self-loathing.

"I like it. Can I change back into my clothes now?"

Forcing a smile, Eileen praised their work and retreated to the safety of her familiar clothes. The twisted knot in her chest loosened slightly, a small victory in the face of her overwhelming battle.

A flurry of movement announced the hairstylist’s arrival. Fresh from a late lunch at a nearby salon, she’d sprinted over upon hearing the news: the future Grand Duchess of Erzet needed her touch. Without preamble, she ushered Eileen into the chair and draped a cloth around her shoulders. "Trimming your bangs won’t take more than ten minutes," she announced.

The suggestion of another dress after the haircut was met with a silent nod from Eileen. Her heart yearned for the familiar comfort of her brick house bed, but escape remained elusive. Just as the stylist reached for the scissors, a prickle of unease snaked down Eileen’s spine. Something, deep in her gut, felt off.

Her heart pounded as she watched the scissors. The scene of the stylist bringing the scissors closer seemed to play out in slow motion. The silver blades glinted under the light.

Her vision darkened and narrowed. The voices around her became indistinct, as if coming from far away, while the sound of her heartbeat filled her ears. A sharp ringing followed, piercing through her head.

’I feel like I’m going to die.’

Eileen’s breath hitched, and her body stiffened. Panic surged through her, paralyzing her thoughts and movements. The overwhelming fear consumed her, rendering her unable to respond to her surroundings.

The primal fear that filled her throat made Eileen desperately open her mouth.

"Sir, Sir Diego."

Instinctively, she called out to the one person she trusted to help her. As soon as Diego heard her trembling voice, he rushed over, pushing the hairstylist aside. He knelt before her, taking her hands in his, and met her eyes with a low, soothing whisper.

"It’s okay. Breathe slowly. In and out. Even slower. You’re doing great."

"Ha... ha..."

Eileen clung to Diego’s hands, trembling as she struggled to follow his instructions, breathing in and out. Gradually, her breaths became more regular, and she began to calm down. With a face drained of color, she looked up at Diego, who smiled gently and whispered to her.

"How about we skip the dress and go have some tea?"

Eileen nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. The tension in her body started to ease, replaced by gratitude for Diego’s presence and his calming influence. The bustling atmosphere of the dress shop faded into the background as they focused on each other. Diego stood up, helping Eileen to her feet, and then turned to the others in the room.

"Thank you for your hard work today, but that’s enough for now. We’ll take our leave."

The seamstresses and the stylist exchanged a silent understanding. With a gentle nod, they retreated, leaving Diego to navigate the situation. He guided Eileen out of the shop, and a cool wave of fresh air washed over her face. With each step away from the boutique, a sliver of the suffocating panic chipped away.

Diego found a quiet corner in a nearby cafe. A s they settled in and waited for the tea he’d ordered, a wave of relief finally washed over Eileen. The ordeal in the dress shop, once a looming storm cloud, already felt like a distant memory replaced by the steady presence of her friend.

***

The terrace cafe, bathed in afternoon sunlight, exuded tranquility. It was a haven mostly for middle-class citizens of the Empire rather than nobles, nestled a short distance away from the main road, lending it a sense of peace and serenity.

A lady with a voice as beautiful as an opera singer’s gracefully took their order. After exchanging polite greetings with Diego, she disappeared into the kitchen.

"I’m a regular here. They make excellent Cortado and Cappuccino. I have breakfast here almost every day," Diego explained, finishing the order on behalf of Eileen.

He then noticed a piece of paper and a pencil placed on the table. With a swift hand, he sketched a cat and handed it to her.

"This is my cat. Isn’t he cute?"

Looking at the drawing, which resembled more of a tiger than a striped cat, Eileen couldn’t help but smile. As she grinned, Diego, having achieved his purpose, smiled back proudly.

"Lately, there’s also a white cat wandering in front of my house, and we’re quite friendly. Maybe he’ll come into my house soon, too."

As they conversed about the chubby white cat, the lady brought over foamy milk, Cortado, and Cappuccino. Diego pushed the milk and Cortado towards Eileen.

Eileen clasped the milk glass with both hands, focusing on the warmth in her palms, attempting to push away the memories of what happened in the dressing room.

Most of all, she felt embarrassed. What would the people in the dressing room think of her? Fortunately, she didn’t have to endure crawling on the ground in humiliation.

"Thank you, Diego. I must have startled you..."

"I wasn’t startled. I’ve seen such cases often on the battlefield. But it’s the first time I’ve known you’re afraid of scissors," Diego replied casually, extending his hand as if it were no big deal.

After a moment’s pause, he asked, "May I ask...?"

***