The words stick in my throat. I’ve never been asked. I’ve never had options. Preferences were luxuries I couldn’t afford.
Marie fills the awkward silence with professional kindness. “We’ll try a variety then. Why don’t we start with some everyday pieces?”
For the next hour, Marie brings outfit after outfit. Casual clothes, formal clothes, sleepwear, shoes. I try everything on, emerging from the dressing room each time to find Cillian’s eyes trained on me with absolute focus.
“That color washes you out,” he says to a beige dress.
“No, not that cut,” to a boxy sweater.
“Yes. That one,” to a pair of jeans that fit perfectly.
A pattern emerges. He prefers things that show my figure without being too revealing. He likes me in blue and green. He notices details I wouldn’t—the way a neckline frames my collarbones, how a particular shade brings out the gold in my eyes.
He’s learning me.
The realization hits as I try on another outfit. He’s also paying attention to and cataloging what makes me comfortable, what makes me smile, what makes me feel good. No one has ever cared enough to notice these things about me.
“What do you think of this one?” Marie asks, holding up a red blouse.
I hesitate. It’s beautiful, but so bright. I’ve spent my life trying to disappear.
“Do you like it?” Cillian asks, watching me.
“I... I don’t know if it’s me.”
“Try it.” His voice is encouraging, not commanding. “If you don’t like it, we don’t buy it.”
I take the blouse into the dressing room. The fabric is soft against my skin as I slip it on. When I look in the mirror, the vibrant red makes me look alive.
I step out before I can second-guess myself.
Cillian’s expression shifts—warmth crossing his features. “What do you think?”
I turn back to the mirror, studying the unfamiliar woman looking back at me. “I think... I like it.”
“Then we’ll take it.”
Those three words—we’ll take it—settle over me like a warm blanket. He asked what I wanted. He listened to my answer. He’s letting me choose. It’s actually…fun.
By the time Marie brings out dresses, the pile of approved clothing has grown to an amount I can’t comprehend. I’ve never owned so many things in my life.
“For everyday events,” Marie explains, presenting a rack of dresses.
I move through them, touching fabrics, considering colors. My hand stops on a simple green sheath dress. The color reminds me of Cillian’s eyes.
“I’d like to try this one.”
Marie smiles. “Excellent choice.”
In the dressing room, I slip the dress on. The fabric is soft and expensive. It hugs my body in a way that feels elegant rather than revealing.
I step out, my heart beating faster.
Cillian goes very still. His gaze moves from my face down the length of me and up again.
“Turn around.”
I comply, turning in a slow circle, feeling exposed under his scrutiny.
