Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The soft glow of morning sunlight streamed into Nadine's bedroom, dancing on the walls like fleeting whispers of calm. For once, the tranquility seemed to mirror her mood—or at least the small corner of her mind that was curious about Noah's invitation to lunch. The message had been unexpected, its tone unusually casual yet sincere.

After a quick shower and a moment of quiet deliberation over her wardrobe, Nadine opted for a cream sheer lace blouse with tailored pants and a long wool coat, simple yet refined. Just as she spritzed her jasmine perfume, the reality of the day returned like a slap. Lunch was just the prelude to the fitting, another round of expectations dictated by her mother.

As expected, breakfast was a silent battle of wills. Her mother's pointed comments about the wedding plans—"the neckline is too plain," "don't eat too much before the fitting"—cut through the morning like sharp glass. Nadine bit back the urge to snap, choosing instead to murmur vague responses until she was safely out of the house and in Noah's sleek sedan.

When she slid into the passenger seat, Noah greeted her with his signature easy grin. He wore a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exuding effortless charm.

"Morning," he said. "Ready for this?"

"For lunch or the fitting?" she asked dryly, buckling her seatbelt.

"Lunch," he replied, as if that were obvious. "The fitting sounds like a minefield."

His candidness caught her off guard, and she couldn't help the small laugh that escaped. "You have no idea."

Their conversation en route to the bistro felt oddly natural, punctuated with laughter and the occasional teasing remark. It wasn't just words—it was a bridge being built, tentative yet steady.

The bistro was as charming as Nadine thought, with its ivy-covered walls and sunlight streaming through the windows. Over plates of truffle pasta and risotto, their lighthearted banter gave way to deeper confessions.

"You ever feel like everyone's mapped out your life before you've even had a say?" Nadine asked, swirling her fork through her risotto.

Noah tilted his head thoughtfully. "All the time. But it helps to push back, even a little. People forget it's your life unless you remind them."

His words hung in the air, a mix of challenge and encouragement. Nadine found herself nodding, wondering if perhaps she'd underestimated him.

The boutique was a shrine to luxury, with marble floors gleaming beneath soft golden light. The wedding dress, draped in pristine white covering, stood like an unspoken command in the fitting room. Nadine hesitated, feeling a familiar knot tighten in her stomach.

"Nadine," Noah's voice broke through her thoughts, calm and grounding. He leaned forward from the plush couch, his expression open. "You good?"

She offered a small smile. "Yeah. Just... this always feels heavier than it should."

Inside the dressing room, assistants helped her into the gown, their chatter a dull hum against her growing discomfort. When she finally stepped out, the mirror reflected a picture-perfect bride. The dress was exquisite, just as her mother had envisioned. Yet it felt like a costume—a role she was being forced to play.

Noah's sharp eye caught her hesitance immediately. Rising from his seat, he studied her carefully. "It's stunning," he said, then added with a smirk, "but not you, is it?"

Mrs. Song's polished smile faltered slightly. "Is there something you'd like to adjust, Miss Han?"

The words tumbled out before Nadine could stop them. "I just... I've always imagined something simpler, more flowing. This feels too... regal."

To her surprise, Mrs. Song's face lit up. "Oh, we can absolutely explore that! Let's collaborate on a design that feels more like you."

With Noah watching from the sidelines, his quiet encouragement a steady presence, Nadine worked with Mrs. Song to sketch a dress that felt uniquely hers—soft satin, long sleeves, a gentle neckline, and delicate lace. For the first time in months, Nadine felt like she was reclaiming a piece of herself.

When it was Noah's turn, she found herself curious about how he'd handle the scrutiny. The assistants led him to a fitting room, returning moments later with a black tuxedo carefully tailored to accentuate his broad shoulders and lean frame.

When Noah stepped out, Nadine's breath hitched. The tuxedo was classic and elegant, a timeless design brought to life by his effortless poise.

"Well?" he asked, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt with practiced ease.

Nadine tilted her head, trying to hide her amusement. "Not bad."

"Not bad?" he repeated, feigning offense. "You wound me, Nadine."

She chuckled. "Alright, fine. You look good. Really good."

"That's more like it," he said with a grin. But then his tone softened, and he added, "And you look... like yourself now. I'm glad you spoke up, Nadine."

Her cheeks warmed at his sincerity, and for the first time, the dress didn't feel quite so heavy.

The late afternoon sun painted the sky in hues of gold as they stepped out of the boutique. Noah turned to her, a playful gleam in his eye.

"So, what's next on the agenda?" he asked.

"Nothing, thankfully," Nadine replied.

"Good," he said with a grin. "Let's go house hunting."

She blinked, startled. "Today? You're serious?"

"Completely. We need a place that's ours—not your family's or mine. Just ours. At first, I thought we'd stay at my house, but then I realized... you might want a place to call your own, too."

The sincerity in his voice melted her initial skepticism. For once, she felt like a partner in this arrangement rather than someone navigating it alone.