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The dress that said yes

Lovisa lingered at the edge of the hall, a lone speck of glitter that crash-landed into a universe. Her fingers strangled the strap of her tiny silver bag as if it might sprout wings and fly her home. She had promised her father she'd return to the countryside this weekend. suitcase waited back in her room, half-packed with countryside essentials: denim, warm flannel, cowboy boots, a hat, and little surprises she collected for her dad.

Prom tasted like someone else's fantasy. Too loud. Too shiny. Too much pretending to enjoy music. Crowds twirled under disco lights as if joy was mandatory and graded.

Cali, being Cali, refused to let her vanish. Lovisa remembered how Cali barged into her room hours earlier, wielding a box like it contained a treasure. "You're going," she declared, already victorious.

Lovisa scrambled for defense. Packing. Exhaustion. The sheep and even Stardust the horse probably missed her back home. Then the zipper slid open. A light cyan dress bloomed. Hand-stitched by the legendary Isabelle Vanderbilt, every seam tuned to perfection. Lovisa had never possessed anything so heartbreakingly beautiful. A dress that didn't simply fit her but believed in her.

"For you," Cali said, gentler than a secret. "From me. And from Isabelle. You deserve to be seen."

Arguing with handcrafted affection felt illegal. So here she stood. People stared, jaws slightly unhinged. Of course they did. Lovisa resembled a fairytale that accidentally went to public school.

She wasn't good with firsts. First dance. First crowd. First spark of recklessness. First risks. First sips of questionably mixed punch.

The air smelled like sugary punch and possibility. Still, she took a breath. The music caught her. Cali appeared at her side with a grin.

She stepped in. Let herself move. Let herself glow. The night noticed.