“Okay,” I whispered. “I’ll wear it.”

He left for work, claiming he needed to sign some papers, leaving me alone in the silent house. The dress was scheduled to arrive at noon for a final fitting.

I paced the living room, my father’s warning playing on a loop. I cleaned counters that were already spotless. I rearranged pillows. When the doorbell finally rang at 12:30, I jumped so hard I nearly knocked over a vase.

Ms. Evelyn Reed stood on the porch, holding a garment bag like it was a holy relic. She was a bird-like woman with sharp eyes and quick, fluttering hands.

“Mrs. Sutton! It’s ready,” she chirped, breezing past me. “Let’s get you fitted.”

In the bedroom, she unzipped the bag. The emerald fabric spilled out, catching the light. It was breathtaking. I put it on behind the screen, the silk lining cool against my skin. It fit like a second skin.

“Perfection!” Ms. Reed clapped her hands. “Look at that waist. Your husband has excellent taste. He insisted on the finest materials. Even asked for hidden pockets.”

I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked… expensive. Regal. But the reflection felt wrong, like I was wearing a costume for a play I didn’t know the lines to.

“It feels… heavier on the side,” I murmured, touching my waist.