35. Dress

Aella

The moment we step into the car, a silent void envelops us, a hallowed tension that swallows any words I might have considered saying. Roman sits beside me, his eyes forward, his posture rigid and his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He’s lost in thought. So am I.

The engine hums a monotonous tune, blending with the distant chirping of evening crickets. My mind races, churning thoughts that won’t settle.

Roman, my husband; the word still feels foreign on my tongue. “Husband.” The heaviness of the word settles on my chest, and I find it hard to breathe.

The leather of the car seat sticks to the back of my gown, making me uncomfortably aware of the layers of fabric encasing me.

I glance at Roman, wondering what he’s thinking. Does he sense my apprehension, my trepidation about the night that lies ahead?

Tonight’s expectations wrap around me like invisible chains, chafing my very essence. The very word “duties” leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. And yet, duty is what b