Mr. Lu was already waiting at the entrance when I stepped outside. The late morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of spring. Amy stood beside the car, waving dramatically the moment she spotted me.
"You're finally ready," she teased as I approached.
"I was ready ten minutes ago," I replied. "You're just impatient."
She leaned closer. "Did you bring it?"
I slipped my purse higher onto my shoulder and lowered my voice. "He gave me his black card."
Amy gasped. "He did not."
"He did."
"Oh, this is serious."
"It's not serious," I insisted, though even I wasn't entirely convinced.
We climbed into the car, and Mr. Lu drove us toward the shopping district. The city moved lazily around us, unaware that my heart felt strangely aware of the upcoming gala.
The boutique we entered was elegant and quiet, soft music playing in the background as sales associates moved gracefully across polished floors. Amy immediately began scanning racks with determination.
"We are not leaving until you look unforgettable," she declared.
"I just need something appropriate," I said.
"No," she corrected. "You need something powerful."
After several dresses that were either too dramatic or too plain, the sales associate returned with a garment bag draped carefully over her arm. When she unzipped it, the fabric caught the light.
Champagne.
Soft and fluid, with a subtle shimmer that felt refined rather than flashy.
Amy's eyes widened. "Oh. That's it."
I hesitated only for a moment before stepping into the fitting room. The fabric slid over my skin like it had been tailored for me. The neckline was elegant, structured without being severe. It hugged in the right places and flowed effortlessly when I moved.
When I stepped out, Amy froze.
"You look like you belong next to him," she said quietly.
I turned toward the mirror.
For a second, I didn't see the girl who had run away years ago. I didn't see uncertainty or hesitation.
I saw someone steady. Someone who could stand under bright lights without shrinking.
"I'll take it," I said.
At the counter, the sales associate folded the gown carefully into tissue paper before placing it inside a cream-colored box. I slipped my hand into my purse and felt the smooth edge of the black card between my fingers. For a moment, I didn't pull it out.
It wasn't about money. I could afford the dress myself. It was about what it represented. Standing beside him. Publicly.
Amy nudged me gently. "Use it," she said. "He gave it to you for a reason."
I exhaled softly and placed the card on the counter. The machine beeped. Approved.
Simple. But it didn't feel simple at all. As we turned to leave, a familiar voice stopped me.
"Well, if it isn't Sophie Huo."
I turned to see Mina approaching us, her smile perfectly polished and just slightly forced.
"Mina," I greeted calmly.
She glanced at the shopping bag in my hand. "Preparing for something special?"
"There's a gala," Amy answered before I could.
"Oh, I heard about that," Mina said lightly. "Who's Harley bringing?"
I met her gaze without flinching. "I'm going with him."
Something flickered in her eyes before she recovered.
"Wow," she said softly. "You always did know how to cling to him."
Amy inhaled sharply beside me.
I tilted my head slightly, keeping my voice even. "If that's what you need to believe."
Mina's smile faltered, just for a second.
"Well," she said, adjusting her purse strap, "enjoy the gala."
"Oh, she will," Amy replied sweetly.
Mina walked away with measured steps, though her posture was noticeably stiffer than before.
As soon as she disappeared from sight, Amy turned to me. "She was dying inside."
"I didn't even do anything," I said.
"That's exactly why she lost," Amy replied.
We left the boutique and crossed the street to a quiet café for lunch. Shopping bags rested at our feet as sunlight streamed through the windows.
"You're glowing," Amy said between bites of her food.
"I am not."
"You are. You look different."
I stirred my drink thoughtfully. "Maybe I just stopped apologizing for existing."
Amy smiled. "Good. It's about time."
The rest of lunch was easy and light, filled with harmless teasing and exaggerated predictions about how dramatic the gala would be.
After lunch, we walked into a high-end shoe boutique just down the block. The walls were lined with sleek displays, each pair positioned like art.
"You can't wear that dress with basic heels," Amy declared, already scanning the shelves.
"I wasn't planning to," I replied, though I hadn't actually thought that far ahead.
The sales associate brought out several options — silver, nude, even a delicate blush pair.
Then I saw them.
Champagne satin, slim straps, and a heel high enough to demand posture but not desperation.
"Try those," Amy said immediately.
I slipped my feet into them and stood. For a split second, I wobbled.
Amy's hand shot out, steadying my elbow.
"See?" she laughed. "Practice."
I took a breath and straightened my spine. Then I took a step forward. Another.
The heels clicked confidently against the polished floor. I walked toward the mirror and stopped.
The girl in the reflection didn't look like she was clinging to anyone.She looked like she could walk into a room and own it.
I turned slightly, testing my balance again. "This is new," I admitted quietly.
Amy smiled. "It's not new. It's just you, without doubting yourself."
I met my own eyes in the mirror. Maybe she was right. Maybe I had always been capable of standing beside him. I just hadn't believed it before.
"I'll take them," I said.
And this time, there was no hesitation in my voice.
By the time I returned to the mansion, the sky had deepened into soft shades of violet and indigo. Mr. Lu carried the larger shopping bags inside while I held the dress box carefully in my arms.
"Have a good evening, Miss Huo," he said politely before stepping away.
"You too," I replied.
Upstairs, I closed my bedroom door and placed the box gently on my bed.
For a moment, I simply stood there.
Then I opened it.
The champagne gown shimmered faintly beneath the warm glow of my room. I lifted it carefully and laid it across the bed before reaching for the shoe box beside it.
The heels caught the light just like they had in the boutique.
I slipped them on.
The extra height forced my shoulders back, my posture straighter. I reached for the dress and held it against myself in front of the mirror.
The reflection staring back at me felt different from the girl who had first returned to Seoul.
She didn't look hesitant. She didn't look like she was waiting for permission. She looked composed. Capable.
The champagne fabric softened my features, but the heels grounded me.
I imagined the gala ballroom — cameras flashing, murmurs rising, the weight of attention settling on my shoulders.
This time, I didn't imagine shrinking. I imagined walking. Steady. Beside him. Not because I had to, but because I chose to.
I lowered the dress slowly and placed everything back into its boxes with care.
For the first time in a long while, the thought of standing in front of a crowd didn't make me want to run.
It made me want to rise.