As we got older, I became the reliable one.
By twenty-three, I’d quit fighting it.
I’d finished college, moved into a small apartment, and waited tables while I hunted for a real job.
I was careful with money, because nobody had ever handed me any.
My closet was thrift-store finds and cheap online orders.
Then my best friend Priya got engaged, and I walked past a boutique window.
By twenty-three, I’d quit fighting it.
The dress was deep emerald, with a structured bodice and a skirt that moved like water.
It cost almost four thousand dollars. I stood on that sidewalk like a kid at a bakery.
“Once,” I told myself. “Once in my life, I want something beautiful that’s mine.”
So I worked every shift. No weekends. No dinners out.
***
Four months later, a saleswoman folded the dress into tissue paper, and I carried the bag home like a baby.
“Once in my life, I want something beautiful that’s mine.”
A week before the wedding, I brought the dress to Dad’s house to show it off.
