Mr. Lu was already waiting at the entrance when I stepped outside. The late morning air was crisp, carrying the faint, sweet scent of early spring. Amy stood beside the car, waving her arms dramatically the moment she spotted me coming down the steps.
"You're finally ready," she teased as I approached.
"I was ready ten minutes ago," I replied, rolling my eyes playfully. "You're just impatient."
She leaned in closer, her eyes flashing with curiosity. "Did you bring it?"
I slipped my purse higher onto my shoulder and lowered my voice. "He gave me his black card."
Amy gasped loudly, pressing a hand to her chest. "He did not."
"He did."
"Oh, this is serious."
"It's not serious," I insisted, though even as the words left my lips, I wasn't entirely convinced.
We climbed into the back seat, and Mr. Lu pulled out into late-morning traffic toward the high-end shopping district. The city moved lazily past the windows, completely unaware of the nervous flutter in my chest as the gala drew closer.
The boutique we entered was elegant and quiet, soft orchestral music playing in the background as sales associates moved gracefully across polished hardwood floors. Amy immediately began scanning the garment racks with fierce determination.
"We are not leaving until you look completely unforgettable," she declared.
"I just need something appropriate," I insisted.
"No," she corrected, holding up a finger. "You need something powerful."
After going through several gowns that were either far too dramatic or painfully plain, the associate returned with a garment bag draped carefully over her arm. When she unzipped it, the exposed fabric caught the ambient light.
Champagne.
Soft, fluid silk with a subtle shimmer that felt refined rather than flashy. Amy's eyes widened. "Oh. That's it."
I hesitated for only a fraction of a second before stepping into the fitting room. The cool fabric slid over my skin as if it had been custom-tailored for my exact measurements. The neckline was elegant—structured without feeling severe. It hugged my waist softly and flowed effortlessly with every step.
When I stepped out into the showroom, Amy froze. "You look like you belong right next to him," she said quietly.
I turned toward the full-length mirror. For a second, I didn't see the hesitant girl who had fled Seoul four years ago. I didn't see fear or lingering uncertainty. I saw someone steady—someone who could stand beneath the blinding glare of camera flashes without shrinking away.
"I'll take it," I said softly.
At the counter, the sales associate folded the gown carefully into tissue paper before placing it inside a heavy cream-colored box. I slipped my hand into my purse, feeling the smooth, heavy edge of the black card between my fingers. For a long moment, I hesitated.
It wasn't about the money—I could easily afford the dress on my own salary. It was about what using it represented: choosing to stand beside him publicly.
Amy nudged my arm gently. "Use it," she whispered. "He gave it to you for a reason."
I exhaled softly and placed the card on the sleek reader. The machine chimed gently. Approved. It should have felt simple, but the weight of it was anything but.
As we turned to leave, a crisp, familiar voice stopped us in our tracks.
"Well, if it isn't Sophie Huo."
I turned to see Mina approaching, her smile perfectly polished and entirely forced.
"Mina," I greeted calmly.
Her eyes darted down to the luxury garment box in my arms. "Preparing for something special?"
"There's a charity gala," Amy chimed in before I could answer.
"Oh, I heard about that," Mina said lightly, her gaze drifting back to me. "Who is Harley bringing as his date?"
I met her gaze without flinching. "I'm going with him."
Something cold flickered in her eyes before she quickly recovered her composure. "Wow," she murmured, a snide edge lacing her tone. "You always did know how to cling to him."
Amy inhaled sharply beside me, opening her mouth to snap, but I placed a steadying hand on her wrist.
I tilted my head slightly, keeping my voice smooth and even. "If that's what you need to believe, Mina."
Mina's fake smile faltered for a fraction of a second. "Well," she said, stiffly adjusting her designer purse strap, "enjoy the gala."
"Oh, she definitely will," Amy added sweetly.
Mina turned and walked away with measured steps, though her posture was noticeably rigid. The moment she disappeared around the corner, Amy turned to me with a beaming grin. "She was dying inside!"
"I didn't even raise my voice," I said, shaking my head.
"That's exactly why she lost," Amy replied triumphantly.
We left the boutique and crossed the avenue to a quiet, light-filled café. Shopping bags rested against our ankles as warm afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall windows.
"You're glowing," Amy noted between bites of her lunch.
"I am not glowing."
"You are. You look completely different."
I stirred my iced tea thoughtfully. "Maybe I just stopped apologizing for existing."
Amy smiled warmly. "Good. It's about time."
The rest of lunch was light and effortless, filled with harmless banter and Amy's dramatic predictions about the gala. Afterward, we walked into a high-end shoe boutique just down the block. Sleek glass displays lined the walls, each pair lit like an artifact.
"You can't wear a dress like that with basic heels," Amy declared, already scanning the shelves.
"I wasn't planning to," I replied, though I hadn't given footwear much thought yet.
The associate brought out several options—metallic silver, nude patent, and a delicate blush pair. Then my eyes caught a pair resting on the bottom shelf. Champagne satin, delicate ankle straps, and a stiletto heel high enough to demand flawless posture.
"Try those," Amy insisted immediately.
I slipped my feet into them and stood up. For a split second, the height made me wobble slightly, but Amy's hand shot out, steadying my elbow.
"See?" she laughed. "Practice!"
I took a deep breath, threw my shoulders back, and took a step forward. Then another. The heels clicked with sharp confidence against the polished marble floor. I walked toward the mirror and stopped.
The woman in the reflection didn't look like she was clinging to anyone. She looked like she could walk into a room full of powerful people and command it.
"This is new," I admitted quietly, adjusting my stance.
Amy smiled softly from behind me. "It's not new, Soph. It's just you, without doubting yourself."
I met my own eyes in the glass. Maybe she was right. Maybe I had always been capable of standing beside him; I just hadn't believed it until now.
"I'll take them," I said, and this time, there wasn't a trace of hesitation in my voice.
By the time I returned to the mansion, the evening sky had deepened into shades of rich violet and indigo. Mr. Lu carried the heavier bags inside while I held the dress box carefully in my arms.
"Have a wonderful evening, Miss Huo," he said politely before bowing out.
"You too, Mr. Lu," I replied.
Upstairs, I closed my bedroom door and placed the large box gently in the center of my bed. For a moment, I simply stood there in the quiet room. Then, I lifted the lid.
The champagne gown shimmered faintly beneath the warm ambient light of my bedroom. I lifted it carefully and laid it across the duvet before reaching for the shoe box beside it. The satin heels caught the light just as brilliantly as they had in the boutique.
I slipped off my everyday flats and stepped into the heels. The extra height forced my shoulders back and straightened my spine. I picked up the gown, holding it up against my frame in front of the full-length mirror.
The reflection staring back at me felt worlds away from the girl who had first stepped off the plane in Seoul. She didn't look hesitant. She didn't look like she was waiting for anyone's permission. She looked composed, capable, and striking.
The champagne fabric softened my features, but the tall heels grounded me.
I closed my eyes briefly and imagined the gala ballroom—cameras flashing in blinding bursts, whispers rising from the crowd, and the overwhelming weight of public attention settling on my shoulders.
This time, I didn't picture myself shrinking back into the shadows. I pictured myself walking. Steady. Confident. Right beside Harley.
Not because I was forced to, but because I chose to.
I lowered the dress slowly and packed everything back into its boxes with deliberate care. For the first time in four long years, the thought of standing in front of the world didn't make me want to run away.
It made me want to rise.