Kiara walked out of the dressing room in a red floor-length evening gown. It felt like the hundredth time doing the same thing. Her face was red from irritation, and her mood was both somber and resentful. She'd had enough, but he kept on going.
No, that doesn't suit you. No, that's so pink. No, that's so revealing. That's best in red. That's so cheap. He kept on finding flaws in all the pieces she tried out.
Kiara was at her breaking point; to him, it felt like a game, but to her, it was such an excruciating process. The switch from dress to dress, the walk in and out, and every time, only to be met with a "no, I don't like it," or a "no, it's so green."
Like really, what was he up to? In all that she'd tried on, nothing really felt good to him? She walked to where the two siblings were seated. Maeve gave her a warm smile and a thumbs-up. For all this time, the girl had done a great job in keeping Kiara motivated and going.
