Falling, Fallen | ✔️

3

~Ayla's POV~

"What about this one, honey?" My mom asked eagerly, holding up an ugly wedding dress to me with an eager look on her face. "It's gorgeous! Don't you think so?" She asked, a sparkle in her eyes. I scrunched my nose up as I looked at it. It seemed like the longer I looked at it, the uglier it got.

"Mom, that dress is so short. Who the hell wears a short dress on their wedding day?" I asked, baffled. Was she trying to make me pick out the ugliest dress imaginable? I couldn't even really fathom what the point was of creating short wedding dresses in the first place. I'd never heard of anyone even buying one before. Who were those for?

She huffed and stuck the abomination of a wedding dress back onto the rack, crossing her arms over her chest. "You'd look pretty in it." She argued. I smiled slightly and shook my head. "Maybe, but it doesn't look like a wedding dress. It looks like a dress I'd have worn to a school dance." I told her, giving her a look. She giggled softly and then began to look around through the other dresses, humming to herself when she looked at some of them.

The two of us continued to look through dresses until a woman came over, who was clearly an employee because she had on a little nametag that said "Raye," and she gave mom and I a friendly smile. "Can I help you guys find anything today?" She asked. I wanted to refuse but mom jumped on the opportunity, eagerly nodding her head. "We're looking for a wedding dress for my daughter here." Mom said, grabbing my arm and yanking me over to her. I glanced at the woman, Raye, and gave her a smile.

"Do you have anything in mind?" Raye asked me, beginning to lead us through the store. I paused, trying to think it over. "Something elegant. I like trains that trail behind at the back. I'm not really sure what you'd call that." I confessed, feeling a little embarrassed. Here I was, a bride-to-be, and I didn't even know what types of wedding dresses there were. I had never even been to a wedding before in my life.

"Ah, actually I just call them trains as well. You had it right." Raye said, glancing at me over her shoulder with a smile. I nodded, but I honestly wasn't sure still. "Yes, that." I agreed anyways. She was the one who worked here, so I imagined she knew what she was talking about.

Raye led us to a little area that had a changing room and a bunch of seats outside of it, which all looked pretty comfy, if I'm being honest. "So, I'll be right back with some dresses that you can try on. Just tell me which ones you like, what you don't like about them, and I'll help you find the one for you." Raye told me, and I bid her a thank you as she stalked away. My mom sat down on one of the plush looking chairs they had, whereas I just plopped down on this circular shaped seat in the middle of the floor.

"So, honey," Mom began, causing me to look up at her and raise a brow curiously. "What do you think of Soren? He's quite handsome, isn't he?" Mom asked, giving me a suggestive look before she giggled to herself.

I scrunched my nose up and reared my head back a little, disturbed. "Mom, please. He might not be my actual husband, but it's still weird because you're my mom." I said, causing her to laugh. "Oh, hush. I still have eyeballs, Ayla. He's a very handsome young man." She stated, crossing one leg over the other. I sighed deeply and gave her an exasperated look. "He and I haven't even spoken to one another, mom. Sorry but a marriage that starts off with us not knowing one another at all is bound to be a disaster." I retorted.

Mom frowned at me. "You don't know that. Like you said, you don't know one another, so you can't know how it will end up. Maybe you two will actually find love together. I'm sure he's a perfect gentleman, if he's anything like Mr. Maxwell." She said, and I raised a brow. I guessed if there was one thing to be said of Mr. Maxwell, it was that he really was a gentleman. He just was anal when it came to business. "Yeah, maybe you're right." I mumbled, inspecting my long nails as doubt swirled around in my stomach.