It was almost midday, and I still hadn't heard from Derek. By now, I should've been used to his nonchalant attitude, especially how he barely communicated whenever he was away. But somehow, it still stung.

I stared blankly at the screen in front of me, lost in thought.

"Coffee?" Calvin's voice cut through my silence.

I flinched slightly, then nodded.

Calvin and I had been good friends since his early days at the company. Coincidentally, we were on the same team, finance.

There was a rumor floating around the office that Calvin liked me, a lot. Even Allison had, more than once, hinted at the possibility with that knowing smirk of hers.

To be fair, Calvin is sweet. Smart, thoughtful, and always somehow in tune with me. He has this calming energy that makes me feel safe, something I've rarely felt around men. I trust him. That's not a sentence I throw around lightly.

He has a free spirit and this uncanny ability to notice the things bothering me before I even admit them to myself. A total catch... if only he were a few inches taller.

He returned with two cups, one creamed, one black, and handed me the creamed one before settling into the chair beside me.

"How are you?" he asked, taking a slow sip from his cup.

"I'm fine."

His eyes searched my face like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

"What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He smiled slightly. "Nothing. Just thought maybe you had a storm of thoughts running through that pretty head of yours."

I exhaled softly. "I'm fine. It's just... I haven't heard from Derek in a while."

"Ah." He nodded, his tone gentle. "I'm sure he'll reach out, he's probably just caught up in work."

"Yeah. I guess." My reply was laced with a cool indifference I didn't mean to show.

"So..." He glanced over at the corner of my desk. "What's for lunch?"

I gave him a playful look. "You need to get a girlfriend who'll cook for you. Since you prefer homemade meals, I'm tired of feeding a grown-ass man."

He chuckled. "What do I need a girlfriend for when I've got you taking care of me already, huh?"

He walked over and opened my lunch box.

"Whoa! Twist pasta?"

I laughed. His delight was contagious. It was hard to stay moody around him, even when I tried.

He dished the pasta and returned to his seat, barely hiding his excitement. He took a bite and his eyes lit up.

"Have you ever considered opening a restaurant?"

I chuckled, my cheeks flushing. "Nope, but thanks for mentioning."

It was funny. I'd received plenty of compliments on my cooking before, but somehow, his words, simple as they were, always hit differently.

Sometimes, secretly, I wished Derek could be more like Calvin, more attentive, more present. I wished he saw me, really saw me, and not just looked at me.

"So, how's the preparation for the big day going?" he asked, giving me a quick once-over. "You look like you've lost a few kilos. I've heard that wedding anxiety is real, especially when the day starts drawing close. Looks like someone caught a case of it."

"Did I?" I replied, playing innocent.

He leaned back, cradling his cup of coffee. "Personally, I don't really buy into the whole marriage-anxiety thing. I mean, if you're walking down the aisle with someone you love, and they love you just as much, what's there to be anxious about?" he said, his tone sincere. "If anything, I'd call it being scared-scared of stepping into a new phase of life. But if it's with the right person, it should feel exciting, not heavy."

His words lingered in the air longer than they should have.

It was like he could read me, like he knew that the weight loss had less to do with fittings or nerves and more to do with this growing ache inside of me. A quiet truth I was too afraid to say out loud: that something about Derek just... didn't sit right anymore.

And maybe, just maybe, I was refusing to admit that to myself.

I let out a small sigh, careful to keep it soft enough that he wouldn't notice.

"I'm scheduled for what will hopefully be my final bridal fitting this weekend," I said, casually sipping my coffee. "I was thinking you could come with me and Allison."

"Allison?" he repeated, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, Allison," I emphasized with a small grin.

He leaned back slightly. "My weekend's pretty packed, honestly. I've got a lot on my desk, and deadlines breathing down my neck. Sorry."

"It's okay," I said, though I wasn't fully convinced. "But what's with you and Allison, really? I mean, it's obviously not just about work."

He hesitated for a second too long. "Nothing, really, nothing," he insisted.

I gave him that look, the one that waited out half-truths.

Finally, he sighed. "Okay, for the hundredth time... I just think she doesn't like me. And I don't see us vibing, you know?"

I chuckled. "And for the hundredth time, Allison is a lovable person. Sure, she can be a handful, annoying even, but once you get to know her, you'd like her."

He nodded silently, though something about his expression said we'll see.

Just then, my phone rang. I stretched to reach it, a flicker of hope rising in my chest, maybe it was Derek. But as soon as the screen lit up, my heart sank.

"Allison," I announced flatly. "Speak of the devil."

I answered. "Hey."

"Girl, I know it's your break time, so I'm definitely not interrupting anything important," she chirped.

"What do you want?" I asked, already bracing myself.

"I know your chopper-boy is right there," she said, her voice dancing with mischief. "Probably sitting like some hungry mama's boy, gawking at you like a naive high school lover-boy."

I exhaled sharply through my nose, silently grateful I hadn't put her on speaker. I wasn't that reckless, never giving Allison that kind of opportunity.

"What. Do. You. Want?" I repeated, trying not to laugh.

"I just called to remind you about tonight," she said sweetly. "Let's party, babe."

I hesitated.

"Okay," I finally agreed. Truth was, a night out sounded a lot better than spending the evening alone in a house that felt more like a ghost town than a home.

"Yay!! She sounded exhilarated.

Sure, he's here, I'll let him know," I said quickly, cutting into Allison's excitement before she could say anything too outrageous.

"Wait, are you talking to me?" she asked, sounding confused.

"Yes," I replied smoothly, pretending she'd asked about Calvin and was just sending her regards.

Just then, the office phone rang, slicing through the moment.

"I need to take this," I said, ending the call.

I picked up the receiver.

"Come to HR," the voice on the other end said curtly before hanging up.

Still in the club, my vision blurred. The music faded into a distant throb, interlaced with scattered echoes of laughter and conversation. Everything felt hazy. I could barely keep my balance when I felt Allison's arm wrap around me, steadying me.

"You had too much to drink," she said, her voice slurred but still more composed than mine. Somehow, despite drinking more than I did, she was still standing barely and seemed far more in control than I could hope to be.

The ride was a blur. I wasn't sure where we were headed, but even in my drunk, disoriented state, I felt safe knowing Allison was by my side.

Allison and I had been friends for a long time, though we often had clashing views, especially about men. She was blunt, never one to sugarcoat anything. Sometimes, I wondered if she realized people had feelings.

I still remember the time she told a random guy on the street to brush his teeth because his breath stank. Sure, she wasn't wrong, but did she really have to say it like that? There had to be a better way to tell someone about their flaws.

"We're at your destination, ma'am," the driver said. Judging by his voice, I guessed he was in his early 40s. He must've been the Uber driver Allison called earlier, probably already anticipating that I'd be this much of a mess. She had insisted we take a ride instead of driving ourselves.

"We'll just Uber there and back,it's safer. What if you get drunk and forget how to drive? You already know I'm nyctophobic; night driving freaks me out."

"Thank you," Allison mumbled, helping me out of the car.

As we walked into the apartment, the lingering scent of vanilla confirmed we were at Allison's place.

"You've got a message," she said.

"From who?" I asked groggily.

The rest of her words faded into nothing. The world fell silent, like a graveyard, and the darkness thickened.

Suddenly, I saw myself, whole and awake, riding my race bike down a highway. I was in the middle of a high-speed challenge with another rider. He was skilled, daring. I didn't know who he was, but I accepted the challenge anyway. Maybe I was out to prove something,.to him, or to myself.

There was something thrilling about racing alongside a stranger, doing the one thing I loved the most. I imagined him wondering who I was. Maybe he thought I was a guy. Maybe he wouldn't have picked this challenge if he knew I was a woman.

I got ahead of him, pride surging through me. But that same pride made me reckless. I didn't see the pothole until it was too late.

I fell.

He stopped, helped me up. Something about his touch sent a familiar rush through me. He supported me into a nearby space, an old, abandoned warehouse.

Still with our helmets on, we were pulled together by an undeniable force.

His fingers found my breasts, tracing their outline with slow, deliberate intent. Even through the biking suit, the stimulation sent shivers down my spine. My body ached with need.

We kissed passionately, breathless and intoxicated by the taste of each other, our tongues dancing in a fevered rhythm.

His fingers continued their teasing assault on my sensitive nipples, drawing a soft, hoarse groan from his throat, a sound that sent my already awakened hormones surging through me like a tidal wave.

His hands slid with deliberate purpose, exploring beneath the fabric of my body-hugging suit, mapping every curve as if he were committing me to memory.

With effortless strength, he lifted me, spreading my legs across his shoulders. I gasped, clutching his hair as his mouth descended on my pulsing core.

Each stroke of his tongue was pure sorcery, igniting a firestorm of pleasure that left me trembling and craving more.

"Hnn..." I moaned softly.

---

"Oh my God, what's with the noise?" a voice muttered.

I groaned. "Don't you sleep like normal people?"

"I do. But normal people wake up in the morning," Allison replied matter-of-factly.

It felt like we had only just gotten back from the club. I tried to open my eyes, but the banging in my head made it impossible.

"My head's killing me."

"Hangover," she diagnosed.

I managed to sit up.

"Here," she said, handing me a glass of black tea.

"Thanks," I murmured, taking a sip.

"You've got tons of messages from Derek," she added casually.

At the mention of Derek's name, my eyes flew open.

"Oh my God... what have I done?"

"Derek is going to freak out," I muttered, glancing around in panic for my phone.

Allison chuckled. "Seriously?"

Her tone caught me off guard, like she didn't understand why I was worried.

I grabbed my phone from the side table and scrolled through the messages. Oddly enough, Derek hadn't responded to any of the texts or voicemails I'd left over the last few days. Instead, he sent a dry "hi" then followed it with complaints about me not replying to him.

No acknowledgment of his own silence. No apology. No explanation.

"I'm doomed," I groaned. "He's going to be so mad. How do I explain this to my fiancé?"

"To-be," Allison interjected.

"Whatever! He warned me not to drink... and here I am, getting wasted and passing out. How is he supposed to believe that nothing happened?"

I paced the room in distress.

Quickly, I typed a message: My love, I'm so sorry. I was at Allison's, and we fell asleep.

I read it over and over before finally sending it, hoping it was enough to ease his anger.

Anxiety prickled across my scalp as I raked my fingers through my hair.

"Calm down, Jac," Allison said.

"You don't understand," I shot back, my voice tight.

I tried calling Derek, but it went to voicemail, again.

"Hi, Derek. Sorry I missed your message. I was at Allison's and slept a bit early. Please call me when you get this."

I hung up. Allison was staring at me like I had completely lost my mind.

"Either say something or stop looking at me like that," I snapped.

Before she could answer, a loud alarm blared. It was the reminder for my bridal fitting, scheduled in just under five minutes.

I looked at her. "That was the fitting reminder."

She nodded. "Okay."

I shot off another message to Derek, letting him know I was heading to the bridal store, even though he hadn't replied to any of my previous texts.

I tossed Allison the car key. We'd left my car at her place last night before Ubering to the club.

As we approached the store, just by the roadside, a familiar flash of black caught my eye.

A sleek, black race bike.

I froze.

"Jac? Jac?" Allison called, her voice distant and muffled.

"Jacqueline!" She grabbed my shoulder and shook it.

"Are you okay?"

"Ye–yeah," I stammered. "It's just... that bike looks really familiar. Like I've seen it recently."

"Maybe from that field where you meet other bikers?"

"Maybe..." I trailed off, still watching the bike. "Do dreams... actually count?"

Still in shock, I tried to steady my breathing. Seeing me struggle to calm down, Allison gently patted my shoulder in support.

"Are you okay?!" she asked for what felt like the hundredth time in one minute.

I exhaled shakily. "Look, take a seat there while I get you some water, you look like you've seen a ghost," she said, pointing at an empty chair in the reception area.

She guided me to the seat with a supportive arm around my back. "Are you fine?!" she repeated again.

I cleared my throat, choking on a sudden lump. "Ye...yes," I stammered, my voice cracking.

"Breathe in... breathe out. Inhale... exhale," Allison instructed, her hands moving in sync as she demonstrated.

"Thank you," I managed to mouth, before lifting the bottle of water to my lips and gulping down a third of it.

My heart pounded in my chest, my thoughts tangled in a haze of confusion. In that moment, I silently prayed for my dream to somehow come true-just once, to taste that 'dream come true.'

"Hello, welcome to Sophie's Bridals," the receptionist greeted us warmly as we approached her desk.

"Thank you," I replied softly.

"Girl, I love your peplum top," Allison complimented her, stretching out to touch the fabric.

With a big, welcoming smile, the receptionist responded, "Thank you so much!"

"Jacqueline McCall," I introduced myself.

She quickly checked her screen, her fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard. "Yes, ma'am, we have you on the list for today," she confirmed, smiling again.

"Please take a seat. You'll be attended to shortly," she added, gesturing toward the waiting area.

I guessed we had to wait; probably many soon-to-be brides didn't want to miss Sophie's magic touch for their 'best day ever.' Sophie was always fully booked. It was the first time in three months of fittings that I actually had to wait.

"So, we're not so lucky today?" Allison mumbled.

"I guess," I whispered, barely loud enough to hear, understanding exactly where her frustration came from.

"Where do you all find these men willing to get married?" Allison teased, trying to pull me out of my daze.

I let out a small chuckle. "When you're ready, you'll find yours."

"What makes you think I'm not ready?!"

"You..." I replied, an unintended smile sneaking across my lips.

Silence washed over us for a few seconds.

"Girl, are you okay?!" Allison asked again for what felt like the ten-thousandth time in thirty minutes.

"I'm okay," I answered coldly.

"You can go in now," the receptionist finally came to announce, her cheerful smile lighting up her face.

She really knew her job, welcoming yet professional, her gestures comforting without feeling forced.

"Hello."

"Welcome," a woman in her late thirties said, ushering us into the fitting space.

I absentmindedly ran my fingers over the gown, which sat gracefully on the mannequin like a poised queen.

The motion of my hand was softly interrupted by the delicate, meticulously placed beading that shimmered under the light, each tiny embellishment feeling like a gentle bump against my fingertips. The lace beneath felt soft and sumptuous, almost like a whisper against my skin, luxurious yet impossibly fragile.

The gown was simple yet elegant, a masterpiece that seemed to breathe life into my imagination. The satin fabric hugged my body gracefully, flowing down like a gentle waterfall, and shimmering delicately under the soft studio lights. Every inch of embroidery was carefully stitched, delicate floral patterns twining up the bodice and tracing along the sleeves like a secret garden blooming at dawn.

Tiny seed pearls and crystal beads were meticulously sewn into the embroidery, catching the light with every small movement, creating a soft, romantic sparkle that felt almost magical. It was as though every bead carried a silent blessing for the future.

The neckline was a tasteful sweetheart cut, showing just enough skin to feel feminine and alluring without being too revealing. The back dipped slightly, edged with fine lace that felt like a whisper against my skin. The skirt flared out gently from the waist, not too full, allowing me to move freely while still giving that classic bridal silhouette, a perfect balance between dreamy and practical.

As I stood there, staring at my reflection, it felt like I was looking at the best version of myself, radiant, soft, and strong all at once.

I thought the fit was perfect as it was, the bodice snug in all the right places, but the stylist insisted it should be taken in just a bit more to achieve that flawless, sculpted silhouette brides dream of.

In that moment, I finally understood why people called Sophie a 'life-giver to every bride's dream dress.' It wasn't just a gown; it was a living piece of art that made me feel like I had stepped straight out of a fairytale, a fairytale I had written and Sophie had brought to life stitch by stitch.

"I'll fit perfectly into it before the wedding date," I assured her.

She looked at me in surprise.

"Why?" I asked.

"Hmmm... It's just that I've never seen a bride-to-be grow bigger," she explained. "Usually, all the stress and preparations make them lose weight, not gain it, resulting in them slimming down."

A part of me silently wished the session would end soon. My thoughts were chaotic, torn between Derek and the 'dream man,' who didn't feel like just a dream anymore. The bike I saw earlier made it all feel so real.

She tried to push the thought away.

"Whoa!! This guy looks hot."

"Uh! Burn me, baby," Allison broke the silence, wiggling her way to where I stood, still staring into the mirror.

She shoved her phone in my face, showing me a photo of a muscular, handsome man. "He's hot. I think you need a little fun, something wild. Break out of your shell before you finally get trapped in marriage."

I chuckled, understanding her perfectly.

She went on, "I read on someone's page that there once was a bride whose to-do list before marriage included sleeping with five strangers on her wedding eve."

My eyes widened in shock. I could never have imagined such a thing. Ew.

"It's true! People do crazy things for fun," Sophie chimed in.

"Even you?!" I turned to Sophie, shocked.

Back to Allison, "Well, I think it's cool. After all, you're still single, not legally tied down to anyone," she winked.

"No, no, no! Don't give me that look," I said, swinging my finger at her.

"What?! Did I even say anything?!" she exclaimed.

"I know that look, and whatever you're about to say, swallow it," I shot back.

"Okay," she said, lifting her hands in surrender.

The fitting session finally ended. I picked up my phone, still holding on to the faint hope of a message from Derek. Nothing.

While we sat in the car, I kept trying to make sense of everything, Derek, his distant behavior. Deep down, I knew it wasn't sudden; it had always been there. It was just getting worse.

I kept glancing at my phone.

Allison cleared her throat, ready to break the heavy silence that had started to consume us during the drive.

"Do you even have a bucket list of things to do before you get married?" she asked.

I knew she wouldn't give up easily.

...

I gasped as I forced my eyes open. It was morning. My eyes ached as I looked around the room in confusion, searching for Derek.

"Derek? Derek?" I called out.

I slipped out of bed and knocked on the bathroom door. "Derek?"

No answer.

Still calling his name, I walked into the living room. Empty. Then the study. Still no sign. I noticed his briefcase was gone.

Huh!!

In the early hours on a Monday. Where could he have gone so early? We were supposed to go to work together today.

I scrolled through my phone and found a voice note from him:

"Jac, I had to head out early. Didn't want to disturb your beauty sleep. I had an emergency to handle before I clock in at work. Calvin will pick you up. See you at work. Bye."

My grip tightened around my phone as I listened.

"Okay," I typed back, and hit send.

Argh!! I raked my fingers through my hair, my scalp prickling with frustration.