𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄 | ✎

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟎

It's today. August 23rd—the day I get married to Marco. I'd much rather die. Or strangle him, which would be a much better alternative. But I have to suck it up and get through this because I have a plan.

Many servants crowd into my room to do different things at once. There's an entire crew of people fixing my hair while the others are working on my dress. Sofia, being in charge, is the one doing my makeup. It's all so overwhelming.

The servants are a blur in my vision as I stare at the dress, trying to ignore the sweat beading down my back. Before they even start fitting the white wedding dress, they put a very tight corset on me, pulling the strings until my lungs feel like they're about to collapse.

Next, the dress is fitted onto my body. But when I see it, I feel like something's off. It's a gorgeous ivory satin gown that's adorned with layers of lace and embroidery. Each layer of lace looks more intricate and delicate than the one before it, and the embroidery is a stunning display of flowers and leaves in a variety of shades. But the dress I picked out is supposed to look different.

As the servants finish adjusting the dress and corset, they step away to allow me to see myself in the mirror. "Isn't it gorgeous? Prince Marco approved of it himself," Eliza, one of the maids, gushes, twirling me around to show off the white gown.

I stare at my reflection with dead eyes. This is not the dress I picked out at all. What the fuck? The way my breasts are pushed up and the corset making my ribs feel like they're about to snap are both reasons for my discomfort. I try not to show it, though.

My hair, on the other hand, provides some sort of relief. My tresses are carefully styled to frame my face perfectly, with subtle waves that fall gracefully down my back. The style is finished off with a decorative hairpiece of pearls and the addition of a beautiful tiara.

But it doesn't take long before I'm pushed back down on a seat, and suddenly there are brushes flying into my face. There are three different people working on my makeup. Sofia is one of them, and I trust her, but the rest I'm not so sure about.

"You look absolutely stunning," Sofia whispers, handing me a mirror. My skin is covered in layers of foundation, blush, and highlighter, which makes me feel like I'm going to choke. "Don't worry, Princess. It'll all be alright."

I take a deep breath and nod, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my gut and the pounding in my head. There are so many things I want to tell Sofia—things I need to get off my chest. But I can't. It's not the right time.

Setting the handheld mirror on the table, I'm finally able to stand up and go to the actual floor-length mirror, where I can see my reflection. I can't help but let my shoulders sag slightly, though, due to the tightness of the corset.