Heat crawls up my throat. “I thought this one was nicer.”
Luke’s mouth tightens. The charm shifts into something sharp at the edges.
“This is an important night,” he says.
“I know.”
“Then why make it harder than it needs to be?”
His voice stays low, careful, like he’s giving me a chance to fix myself before anyone else sees.
He steps closer. “Ruby. I sent you something for a reason.”
My fingers curl around my purse strap. “The red one is really short.”
Luke’s eyes narrow slightly.
“That’s the point.”
I search his face for the Luke I know. The one who brought me coffee during morning shifts. The one who leaned on the bookstore counter asking for stories with happy endings.
Three months ago, he walked into my quiet life and made it feel less lonely.
He had city confidence, money, and the kind of smile that works on people who want to believe.
It worked on me.
Because he was nice. Because he listened. Because he looked at me like I mattered.
Because he looked at meat all.
Luke hooks a finger into the tie at my waist and tugs lightly.
“Wear what I picked,” he says.
Something in me goes still.
I recognize the tone.
This isn’t a conversation.
“I’ll change,” I say.
His smile returns, smooth as glass. “Good.”
I turn toward the stairs.
“Ruby,” he calls.
I glance over my shoulder.
“Make it fast. We’ll be late.”
My room feels smaller when I step inside again.
I pull the red dress from the box. The fabric is soft, expensive, completely wrong for the life I actually live.
I change quickly, avoiding the mirror until the last second.
