The dress was art. A cascade of silver silk, embroidered with delicate pearl threads that caught every light. Chanel had outdone themselves. But I didn’t feel beautiful. I felt armored. Like every stitch held a piece of my healing.
Brittany was glowing in her own look—a deep emerald gown with a high slit and matching heels. She looped her arm with mine.
“You okay?” she asked.
I nodded. “I didn’t slap her. That’s growth.”
She laughed, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “She deserved worse.”
The runway was a blur of light, movement, and adrenaline. When I stepped out, the audience vanished. It was just me and the rhythm of my heels, the swish of silk, the thunder of my heart.
And in the front row—Jasper.
Our eyes locked. His expression was unreadable. Until it softened.
After the final walk, backstage was chaos again—tears, cheers, exhaustion.
Brittany pulled me into a hug. “You did it!”
“You were magnificent,” I told her.
“I didn’t trip,” she laughed. “That was my biggest goal.”
Then I saw him again. Jasper. Standing just inside the doorway. No tie. Navy suit. And that gaze—quiet, steady, intense.
“Hi,” he said, walking over.
I smiled nervously. “Mr. Ashford.”
“Corine Holts,” he said, voice like velvet. “That was… beyond words.”
I blushed.
“I mean it,” he added. “You looked powerful. Unshakable.”
“Makeup and lighting,” I murmured.
“No. Presence.”
My heart stuttered. Brittany had wandered off, probably on purpose.
“I’m glad you came,” I said. “For your sister.”
“Yeah..she is just a ball of nerves” he replied, eyes warm. “She told me you were nervous today.”
I laughed softly. “I was. I still am.”
He stepped closer. “How are Kyle and Astrid?”
There it was. The flutter. Like wings inside my chest.
“They’re good. Kyle’s talkative as ever. Astrid just started saying meaningful words”
He smiled. “I’d love to meet them someday. If that’s okay.”
I swallowed. “You would?”
“Of course,” he said, like it was the most natural thing. “Anyone who raises kids that brave deserves to be seen.”