The knock makes her freeze.
"Is everything alright in there?" The manager's voice. Professional. Concerned.
I keep moving. Slow now. Torturous. Watching Lila's face as she tries to form words.
"I'm—" Her voice cracks. She swallows. Tries again. "Yes. I'm fine."
"The dress?" The manager sounds hopeful, likely still calculating commission.
I thrust. It’s not hard enough to make her scream, but enough that her breath catches audibly.
"It's—" She looks at me in the mirror, caught between fury and surrender. "It's perfect. Everything's perfect. I feel fucking perfect."
"Wonderful! Take all the time you need."
Footsteps retreat.
The second she's gone, I almost laugh. Almost open that curtain and show the manager what "take all the time you need" really means. Show everyone that we're not some polite couple shopping—we're something rawer than that.
But that would be fucking stupid.
So I keep it here. Keep it ours.
When we finish, she's trembling. Legs barely holding her up. I pull out carefully. Hold her steady.
I kiss her neck. Her jaw. The spot behind her ear that makes her shiver.
She's quiet. Too quiet.
I turn her to face me. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." But her eyes are distant.
I wait, giving her space to speak.
She adjusts the dress, smoothing it down, then fixes her hair in the mirror. The post-sex ritual makes her presentable again.
"We'll need perfume," she says finally, not quite meeting my eyes. "After... that."
I almost laugh. "I'll buy you whatever you want."
"No." She turns and looks at me properly now. "I miss my perfume. The one I always wore."
"Buy it again."
"It's not that simple." Her voice goes soft. "It was specific. Jasmine and amber. My grandmother's."
The longing in her expression makes me pay attention. Really pay attention.
"She raised you?"
"For a while. Before she died." Lila touches her neck where perfume would go. "That scent was hers first. I kept buying it after because... I don't know. It felt like keeping her close."
The vulnerability in that admission does hits me right in the chest. Family.Lost family. I understand that more than she knows.
"We'll find it," I tell her. It’s not a maybe but a certainty.
"Promise?"
