Part 4: The Maple Leaf and the Mirror
At precisely three fifteen, the photographer requested a few final robe shots by the natural light of the window. Once those were finished, I stepped behind the heavy silk dressing screen to finally put on my gown.
As the fabric slipped over my shoulders, the ambient noise of the room seemed to melt away. Claire carefully worked her way up the long line of delicate silk buttons lining my spine. Tessa gently adjusted the sweeping lace overskirt.
When I stepped out and faced the floor-length mirror, the entire room went dead silent.
The gown was a custom masterpiece that Elena had spent months hand-crafting. It featured long, delicate sleeves of French lace, a beautifully fitted bodice, and a breathtaking train. Hidden meticulously along the hemline were tiny embroidered maple leaves—a secret detail my grandmother had sketched for my mother decades ago before she passed away. Elena had preserved it flawlessly.
Claire covered her mouth, her eyes welling with tears. "Dakota... oh my God."
"You look like a living painting," Tessa whispered.
For the very first time all day, the heavy tightness in my chest loosened. I smiled. I felt connected to my mother. I felt ready to walk toward Luke.
Then, the mirror reflected a shadow. Joan stepped out from behind the dressing screen. Her fingers reached out, gripping the delicate lace sleeve of my dress.
"Interesting," Joan murmured, her voice dripping with artificial analysis.
May you like
I froze, meeting her cold eyes in the reflection. "Joan. Don't."
"Oh, calm down, child. I'm simply admiring the craftsmanship." Her hand slid down the side seam of the bodice, resting heavily against the delicate layers of the overskirt. Behind her, near the door, Madison stood watching with a dark, expectant smirk.
