"I don't think I want a dress with too much tulle for the wedding. I'd really like something simple like this dress," I said, pointing to the dress I liked in Mr. Durand's portfolio.
"These kinds of dresses are very popular right now, more modern, and increasingly liked by young brides," explained Mr. Durand.
I smiled, pleased with my choice. The wedding was in 1 week, and I still didn't have my dress. Normally, a dress is chosen months in advance, but given that this wedding is rushed, we didn't really have a choice. Everything else had already been decided: the venue, decorations, caterer, wedding cake, rings, and so on. I had forgotten that organizing a wedding was primarily a stress-inducing endeavor. Tom, on the other hand, didn't seem tense about the situation. Understandable, as he already has his suit for the ceremony, even if it doesn't match the chosen colors. He insisted on wearing a black suit, not white like his groomsmen. At first, I was angry that he didn't make the effort to fit the theme, then I thought it was just a fake ceremony. If it were my real wedding, I wouldn't have let that slide.
"So, we'll take this dress," Tom said.
"Are you buying or renting?" Mr. Durand asked.
"We're buying," said Tom, as my eyes widened.
The dress was way too expensive. Even if he had poured a lot of money into everything else, I was bothered by spending such a sum on something I would never wear again.
"Well, then we'll need to do the fittings starting tomorrow for the dress. I'll give you the address of the boutique, and you can join me there to see if it fits. Otherwise, we can look at other dresses. I'm taking the afternoon for the fitting," Mr. Durand smiled. "Now, let's talk about the seating plan."
As we were about to start organizing the tables, Tom received a call. He apologized to us before getting up and heading to his office. Probably something related to his work. We continued with Mr. Durand, and at that moment, I thought of Ella. She wasn't aware of what was happening between Tom and me; she thought I was dating Bill, which meant she couldn't be present at my wedding. Indeed, we had sent the invitations a few days ago, but I hadn't seen Ella's name. My best friend wouldn't be there for one of the most important events in my life, even if it was fake. Maybe I could ask Tom if I could talk to her without giving too many details and if she could come with Georg... No, he would surely refuse, but I would try anyway; I had nothing to lose.
A few minutes later, Tom rushed back, but he didn't stop in the living room where we were. He went straight to the elevator to call it.
"But where are you going?" I asked, astonished.
"Work. It's urgent," he simply said.
"I'll be back tonight."
I didn't have time to reply before the elevator arrived and carried the future groom away. I sighed, looking down at the portfolio in my hands. Mr. Durand placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, and I looked up at him with compassion. It was a fake wedding, but I still wanted Tom and me to organize the whole ceremony. If this turned out to be the only wedding I would be allowed, I wanted it to be special. I forced a smile at Mr. Durand and tried to draw his attention back to what we were doing before Tom left abruptly.
Around 6 PM, we had finished organizing everything. I had escorted Mr. Durand to the elevator, and while waiting for it, he took the opportunity to give me the address of the dress shop for the next day. He scheduled the fitting for 2 PM, and I thanked him for today as he left, leaving me alone in this large penthouse. It was the first time I found myself alone here. Normally, there was always Tom or Doris. At the beginning of my stay here, I wasn't allowed to stay alone for fear that I would escape, but since then, I had much more freedom.
I took my phone to see that I had a message from Ella regarding my proposal to go out from 2 days ago.
"πππππ’ πππ ππππππππππ ππππ’ πππ ; πΈ'ππ ππ‘πππππ πππππ’πππππ. πΈπ π’ππ π πππ, π π πππ ππππ ππππππππ πππππ?" - π΄πππ
"π΅ππππππ’, π’ππ ππππ ππ! πΈ π ππ π ππππππ. πππ ππππππ ππππ ππ πππππ’πππππ ππππππππ πππππ." - πΉπππ’
"πΆππππ! ππ ππππ ππ πππ πππππ πππ ππ 9 πΏπΌ." - π΄πππ
I sent her a thumbs-up emoji to approve. It would be good to see her again in a place that was familiar to us. It had been so long since I had enjoyed life's little pleasures. I was always confined between four walls and, moreover, in Tom's presence. Going for a drink or two with Ella would be like a bachelorette party in itself. I didn't have any female friends besides her, and I was aware that going for a drink in a bar wasn't really incredible as a plan for this event, but I think, on the contrary, a last moment in an ordinary place with only my best friend would do me good before living in Tom's world.
Now, all that was left was to wait for Tom's return to give him the necessary information for the wedding. He was supposed to be back from 9 PM, and it was already 8 PM. I decided to settle on the large couch to watch a series while waiting for him. I flipped through the channels until I stumbled upon an episode of Grey's Anatomy. I really liked this series. I had been watching it since I was in college because the medical field had always interested me. I found it all fascinating. Yes, I know, it's quite funny, an artist interested in medicine. But when you think about it, the two are linked by one thing: precision. You have to be precise when making a stroke because a single poorly drawn stroke on a painting or drawing can be fatal, just like in medicine. One imprecise movement, and you lose your patient.
I had a 2-year lead on the other students, so I ended up with students older than me. I got my diploma at 16, while the others got it at 18. I was the gifted little one who ended up with a rather miserable life, to be honest. In fact, I had always hesitated between studying medicine or an art school. Of course, my parents wanted me to study medicine; they were willing to go into debt for it, and in the end, I did neither. They also wanted me to marry a lawyer or a prominent surgeon. Finally, I'm going to marry an internationally renowned drug dealer. In a way, I liked defying my parents' wishes. I hated that they dictated what I should do with my life. And that's why we are here today. Because I didn't listen to what they told me, but I don't regret it. If I hadn't made that choice, I would have probably wasted my life.
I checked the time, snapping out of my thoughts. It was 11 PM. I began to wonder. Usually, the latest he has been is 10:30 PM, but he was already 30 minutes late. I refocused on my episode, trying not to worry too much. He was a big boy; he didn't need me to worry about him.
