No answer. Just a stunned silence, punctuated by wide, motionless eyes. Eileen, revealing her face in a desperate attempt to defuse the situation, felt a familiar pang of shame. 'They'll probably want me to cover my eyes again,' she thought, bracing herself for judgment.
The eyes her mother considered grotesque, the same features that provoked her scorn. Eileen fought the urge to recoil, took a deep breath to calm herself, and then ran her hand through her hair. With a deft movement, she removed the hair clip, letting her bangs fall over her eyes, obscuring her vision. This was the safest refuge she knew.
- … My God!
A collective sigh, heavy with relief, was the starting gun. The boutique, previously immersed in despair, vibrated with a new energy. The owners, who had been in a heated debate, now united with an almost supernatural ease.
"Pure and innocent, that's it! Like a vision straight out of a fairy tale, " exclaimed one of them, her voice vibrating with enthusiasm. "Perfect for an outdoor ceremony."
— We can simply replace the dress sleeves with delicate lace. Let's add a touch of whimsy, so it doesn't look too traditional.
— Chiffon, absolutely! We need a fabric that billows in the slightest breeze.
Finally, you said something useful.
Quick instructions, filled with technical terms, flew between the owners and the staff, who rushed to execute them efficiently. The woman in the ornate dress, with urgency in her voice, ordered:
Bring a hairdresser, immediately!
A clerk rushed out the door, her steps brimming with urgency. The woman in the vibrant dress gently touched Eileen's arm and introduced herself, belatedly.
— Your Excellency, Archduchess, you may call me by the name of the boutique.
Eileen's reflection mocked her in the mirror, eliciting an empty laugh. It was a cruel reminder of why she had avoided him for so long.
The woman in the understated dress was Bella. Her vibrant counterpart, Rosetto. And the one with the elaborately patterned dress? Bright. Despite their radically different tastes, evident in their sarcastic introductions, they were now united by a common purpose: to transform Eileen into a stunning bride.
Under watchful eyes, Eileen put on the dress that had been kept at the back of the boutique.
— Leave your bangs pinned up for now, the hairdresser will be right here.
One of them said. Another delicately adjusted her waist, asking:
Take a deep breath.
A third person suggested:
Let's see how these lace gloves turn out.
A flurry of commands made Eileen feel like a well-dressed doll, each movement orchestrated by invisible hands. Finally, they stepped back, with expressions of admiration and something deeper. Rosetto, with unusual seriousness, declared:
— You will be a bride the Empire will never forget.
With careful hands, they led her out of the makeshift testing room. Diego, engrossed in conversation with a staff member, turned around when he heard approaching footsteps. His eyes widened, and he momentarily lost his voice. Finally, he stammered:
— You look… stunning.
Diego's compliments poured forth, each one making Eileen blush more. Bella carefully turned her towards the mirror, but Eileen kept her eyes on the floor.
Years had passed since she had faced her reflection in its entirety. That act, banal to most, required a courage she didn't possess. 'Everyone says I'm beautiful ,' she thought, the words echoing in her mind.
Although she suspected the compliments were just to cheer her up, the tenderness in their eyes sparked a glimmer of hope. Perhaps, in that dress, she wouldn't be so repulsive. Taking a deep breath, Eileen hesitantly looked up. The mirror stared back at her, and for a moment, everything was silent.
A bitter laugh escaped her lips, a cruel reminder of why she had banished mirrors from her life. The elegant dress and all the gentleness couldn't erase years of self-loathing. In the mirror, she didn't see the enchanting image everyone described, but rather the imperfections that haunted her.
The reflection was a grotesque caricature, a childhood nightmare scribbled in black chalk. It devoured the beauty of the dress, leaving only a monstrous figure staring back. 'Even if I wanted to,' she thought, 'I can't see my own face.'
Years of self-imposed exile, fueled by her mother's cruelty, had distorted Eileen's perception. Her eyes worked fine, but her mind had created a warped prison. Correcting it seemed impossible. The reflection only confirmed her worst fears, a monstrous mockery that reinforced her pain.
— I liked it. Can I go back to my clothes now?
Forcing a smile, Eileen praised their work and returned to the comfort of her usual attire. The knot in her chest loosened, a small triumph amidst the battle she was waging.
A commotion announced the arrival of the hairdresser. Coming straight from a late lunch at the nearby salon, she rushed over upon hearing the news: the future Archduchess of Erzet needed her services. Without hesitation, she sat Eileen in the chair, covering her shoulders with a cloth.
"Trimming my bangs won't take more than ten minutes, " he announced.
The idea of trying on another dress after the haircut was met with a silent nod. Her heart longed for the comfort of her brick home, but running away wasn't an option yet. When the hairdresser picked up the scissors, Eileen felt a chill run down her spine. Something, deep down, felt wrong.
Her heart raced as she saw the scissors approaching. The scene seemed to unfold in slow motion. The silver blades gleamed in the light.
His vision blurred. The voices around him became indistinct, as if coming from afar, while the sound of his own pulse filled his ears. A sharp buzzing tore through his mind.
'I... I feel like I'm going to die.'
Her breath caught in her throat. Her body stiffened. Panic exploded inside her, paralyzing any thought or movement. An instinctive fear rose to her throat and made her open her mouth in despair.
— Sir… Mr. Diego.
Instinctively, she called out to the only person she trusted. As soon as he heard her trembling little voice, Diego rushed to her, pushing the hairdresser aside. He knelt down, took her hands, and spoke in a soft whisper:
— It's all right. Breathe slowly. That's it. Exhale... even slower. You're doing great.
Eileen squeezed Diego's hands tightly, trembling as she tried to obey his instructions, inhaling and exhaling. Gradually, her breathing normalized, and she began to calm down. Her face pale, she looked at Diego, who smiled and murmured:
How about we leave the dress for later and go have some tea?
Eileen nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. The tension dissipated, replaced by gratitude for Diego's comforting presence. The hustle and bustle of the boutique faded into the distance. Now, it was just the two of them. Diego helped her to her feet and then turned to the others in the room.
Thank you for your work today, but that's enough for now. Let's go.
The seamstresses and the hairdresser understood in silence. With a gentle nod, they stepped aside, allowing Diego to handle the situation. He guided Eileen out of the shop, and the fresh air washed over her face like a balm. With each step away, a little of the suffocating panic dissipated.
Diego found a quiet corner in a nearby café. As they sat down and waited for their tea, Eileen finally felt relief. The incident at the store, which had previously seemed like a nightmare, now seemed distant, replaced by the firm presence of her friend.
The café on the veranda, bathed in the afternoon sun, exuded serenity. A refuge for the middle-class citizens of the Empire, away from the main road, enveloped in tranquility.
A waitress with a voice as beautiful as an opera singer gracefully took the order. After exchanging greetings with Diego, she disappeared into the kitchen.
— I'm a regular customer here. The Cortado and Cappuccino are excellent. I have breakfast here almost every day.
Diego explained, completing Eileen's request.
He then noticed a piece of paper and a pencil on the table. With a quick gesture, he drew a cat and handed it to her.
— This is my cat. Isn't he beautiful?
The drawing looked more like a tiger, which made Eileen smile. Diego, satisfied, continued:
Lately, a white cat has been hanging around my house. We've become quite familiar. Maybe he'll move in permanently.
While they were talking about the chubby cat, the waitress brought their orders. Diego pushed the milk and the Cortado towards Eileen.
She held the glass with both hands, focusing on the warmth in her palms, trying to push away the memories of the fitting room.
Above all, she felt ashamed. What would the people at the boutique be thinking of her? Fortunately, she didn't have to crawl out in humiliation.
Thank you, Mr. Diego. I think I scared you…
— Not at all. I've seen situations like this many times on the battlefield. But I didn't know you were afraid of scissors.
He replied naturally, before asking delicately:
— May I know why?
To be continued…