“Do you mind if I wear your wedding dress? It’s no use to you now,” her friend smirked.
“I think it’s perfect. The best one you’ve tried on,” said Emily, scrutinizing her friend.
“Your friend is right. The dress suits you beautifully. We’ll just need to take up the hem and adjust the waist a little,” the bridal shop assistant chimed in. “Shall I bring the veil?”
“I didn’t want a veil,” Lily said hesitantly.
“Bring it, but nothing too long,” Emily interjected, watching her friend twirl before the mirror, the full skirt swaying around her legs. Lily could already picture Oliver’s awestruck eyes when he saw her in that dress.
The assistant returned, carefully carrying a delicate veil. With a practised motion, she pinned it into Lily’s hair.
“You could walk down the aisle right now,” the assistant smiled at Lily’s reflection. “So, will you take it?”
“What do you think?” Lily turned to Emily.
“You’re the one getting married. It’s your choice,” her friend replied, failing to hide the flicker of envy in her gaze.
“Yes, we’ll take it,” Lily said, lifting the hem as she stepped down from the platform. The assistant stopped her.
“I’ll fetch the seamstress.”
Lily sighed dramatically, though secretly she was glad to stay in the dress a little longer.
On their way home, the girls cut through the park. They’d been friends since school. Emily, tall and angular with sharp features and a long, straight nose, had always envied Lily’s soft looks—her delicate, upturned nose, dimpled cheeks. And more than that, she envied Lily’s stable family. No shouting, no drinking. Emily’s father had died two years earlier from tainted vodka. She’d hoped for peace after his death, but her mother had only grown more bitter and erratic.
Lily had graduated from a prestigious university, working as a translator for a top firm. Emily, after finishing her biology degree through correspondence, worked in a lab, hating every minute—another reason for resentment.
And now, of all things, Lily was getting married. Oliver had never interested Emily, but the fact burned her. She dated, yet none of it led to anything. She dreamed of a grand white dress—of escaping her mother. What did Lily have that she didn’t? Why did luck always favour her?
“You’re not even listening,” Lily tugged Emily’s arm.
“Hm? What did you say?” Emily had been lost in thought.
“I said I’ll throw the bouquet to you at the wedding, and you’ll be next. Oh, look—that woman’s selling jewellery. I noticed her yesterday but was in a rush. Let’s take a look.”
“Why bother with cheap trinkets?” Emily resisted, eyeing the elderly woman’s tray of glittering baubles with disdain.
“Look at this ring,” Lily held up a small silver band with a white stone. “Can I try it?”
“No charge for trying,” the woman said, “but I won’t sell it to you.”
“Why not?” Lily frowned, not letting go.
“You’ll wear a wedding band soon. Mixing metals—bad taste,” the woman tutted. “Try this instead.” She handed Lily a polished pendant on a delicate chain.
“Lily, why bother with this junk?” Emily scoffed.
“It’s unusual. How much?” Lily ignored her.
“Whatever you like. Take it—it’ll bring you luck.”
“She’s already lucky,” Emily muttered.
“And you’re jealous,” the woman shot back.
Lily rummaged in her purse and handed over £20.
“That’s all I have,” she said apologetically.
“More than enough.”
As they walked home, Lily fastened the pendant around her neck.
“Well?” she asked.
“Interesting,” Emily said flatly—though she liked it too.
A week later, Lily collected her altered dress. The box was bulky.
“Just take a taxi home,” the assistant suggested.
Lily left it there, thanking her, then rushed back to work. She called Oliver—no answer. He was a programmer who worked remotely, but he never ignored calls.
Fidgeting, she left early and went to his flat. The door opened—but it was Emily, wearing Oliver’s shirt, the pendant glinting on her chest.
“What are you doing here? Where’s Oliver?”
“Tired. Sleeping,” Emily smirked.
Lily pushed past her. Oliver lay on the sofa, bare-chested, a blanket covering his legs.
“Oliver!” she shouted. His lashes flickered but he didn’t wake.
“Convinced?” Emily taunted.
Lily shoved her aside and ran.
At home, she collapsed on the sofa in tears. Her mother listened, then urged caution.
“I saw them!”
“Talk to Oliver.”
“I never want to see him again!”
But they did meet. Oliver waited outside her work the next day.
“Lily, listen. I don’t love Emily. I barely remember—she came over, asked for help online. The last thing I recall is drinking tea. Then… nothing.”
“That’s convenient,” Lily snapped.
“I swear. I love you—”
She pulled free and fled.
Emily soon announced her pregnancy. They’d marry.
“You don’t mind if I wear your dress, do you?” she’d sneered.
On their wedding day, Lily watched from her window as the ribbon-bedecked car arrived. Oliver glanced toward her house. For a moment, she thought their eyes met. She stepped back, heart racing.
Months passed. Lily avoided them—until one evening, an ambulance stood outside Emily’s mother’s flat. Oliver lingered nearby.
“Your aunt’s ill?” Lily asked, voice steady.
“Heart attack,” he said, looking weary. His next words stunned her:
“Emily left. She couldn’t stand the baby… our son.”
Lily bit her lip. “And you?”
“I’m keeping him. He’s mine.” His eyes softened.
Weeks later, Oliver came to her home with the truth: Emily had lied. The child wasn’t his. She’d drugged him, then trapped him.
“I did a DNA test. He’s not mine… but I’m keeping him.”
Lily studied him—his honesty, his love for the boy. Slowly, they rebuilt trust. They walked together in spring parks, celebrated birthdays—a family.
Her mother warned: “What if Emily comes back?”
Lily touched the pendant—somehow returned to her. “She won’t. She’s gone.”
The lesson was clear: love tangled in deceit could still untangle itself. Oliver had been caught in Emily’s web, but love endured. Life wasn’t smooth, but second chances existed—for those brave enough to take them.
