NovelEnglishReese cinto the room, leaning gently on the arm of a shop assistant.
For a split second, Sylvia was completely stunned.
A thousand words floated through her mind, but in the end, only one stuck: ethereal.
Because Reese wore a prosthetic, she couldn't handle an overly complicated wedding dress. So the designer had
created something special, just for her.
The top was a delicate corset of lace, dotted with layered organza petals-soft and airy, but with an edge of
strength. The skirt flowed down in light, layered tulle, with a discreet slit at the hem so Reese could walk easily.
The whole look was dreamy, otherworldly-and with Reese's smile, it was impossible to imagine anyone more
deserving.
Teetering in her high heels, Reese made her way over, beaming, and even shot Sylvia a playful look, as if to say,
"Well? How do I look?"
Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.
Sylvia nodded enthusiastically, forcing a smile. She didn't want to look like she was struggling to keep it
together.
Reese seemed to take heart, letting go of the assistant's arm and walking, step by step, toward Rupert.
The boutique was decorated to feel like a real wedding venue, all soft lights and white roses.
Reese walked toward her fiancé, radiant.
It was a world Sylvia could never reach, not in a hundred lifetimes.
She stepped back, then back again, eager to slip away from all that golden light. Then, suddenly, Reese wobbled
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇton her heels and fell right toward Rupert.
He reached out, almost instinctively, not to catch her, but to stop her from falling any further.
A second later, he pulled her into a steadying hug and gave her a stern look. "Careful."
Reese glanced down at her shoes. "It's my first tin heels."
Rupert helped her stand straight, his expression softening just a little. "You don't have to push yourself."
Reese made a face. "Well, you're a giant. If | don't wear heels, | won't even reach your shoulder. What's the
photographer supposed to do-keep yelling at the bride to stand on tiptoe?"
The room burst into warm laughter.
Everyone was beaming at them, admiring, wishing them well.
Sylvia just wanted to fade into the background, but fate wasn't having it.
Kay pointed right at her. "Ms. Lloyd, where's your dress? Let's see it!"
"lI don't have one. Ask them," Sylvia replied, glancing over at the Hansons.
Yves was too busy watching Reese, so Mrs. Hanson nudged him sharply.
He snapped out of it, barely glancing at Sylvia. "Mom, just pick something for her."
Mrs. Hanson seized the moment, giving Sylvia a withering look before strutting over to the racks.
She picked out the plainest, most matronly dress she could find and handed it
over.
Suddenly, everyone-including Kay-was watching Sylvia, waiting for her to be humiliated.
But Sylvia just smiled calmly. "If you like it, Mrs. Hanson, that's fine by me."
Mrs. Hanson smirked. "That's right. A woman's supposed to do what her husband's family says on her wedding
day."
Sylvia dropped her gaze and said nothing.
Everyone thought she'd given in, that she was just going to take whatever cher way.
But in reality, her eyes were locked on Mrs. Hanson's purse, unnoticed by anyone else.
Just
assistant cin
with an orate English-style
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afternoon tea set-scones, finger sandwiches, all the trimmings.
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Sylvia took a beat, then jumped up to take the teapot from the tray. "Mrs. Hanson,
please, have a seat and enjoy stea."
From their earlier interactions, Sylvia
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So Sylvia put on her best sycophant act.
Sure enough, Mrs. Hanson was delighted and reached for the cup.
As she did, Sylvia "accidentally"
bumped the table, spil(ing ted-all bver
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"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! Let me
help you-" Sylvia fusgadhreachind for
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Mrs Hanson's Steve with a napkin,
Mrs. Hanson recoiled as if she'd been
Mrs. Haocuted, leaping to h
feet. "Don't touch me! That's enough, I't clean it up myself s
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She stormed off to the restroom, tea-stained and fuming, while Sylvia just smiled
to herself.
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