“You don’t mind if I wear your wedding dress, do you? It’s not like you’ll need it anymore,” smirked her friend.
“Honestly, it’s perfect. The best one you’ve tried on,” said Jane, eyeing her critically.
“Your friend’s right—it suits you beautifully. Just needs a hem adjustment and a little taken in at the waist,” chimed in the bridal shop assistant. “Shall I bring the veil?”
“I wasn’t planning on a veil,” Daria hesitated.
“Bring it, but not too long,” Jane cut in, watching her friend twirl before the mirror, the bell-shaped skirt swaying around her legs. Daria could already picture Anton’s awestruck face when he saw her in it.
The assistant returned with a delicate tulle veil, clipping it deftly into Daria’s hair.
“Good enough for the registry office right now,” the assistant beamed at Daria’s reflection. “So? Taking it?”
“What do you think?” Daria turned to Jane.
“You’re the one getting married—your call,” Jane replied, failing to hide the flicker of envy in her eyes.
“Yes, we’ll take it,” Daria said, lifting the hem to step down—but the assistant stopped her.
“Wait, I’ll fetch the seamstress.”
Daria sighed dramatically, secretly thrilled to stay in the gown a little longer.
On their way home, they cut through the park. They’d been friends since school—Jane, all sharp angles and towering height, with a long, straight nose and an ever-present resentment toward Daria’s soft, heart-shaped face, rosy dimples, and—most of all—her normal parents. No drunken rows, no screaming matches. Jane’s dad had died two years ago from dodgy vodka. She’d hoped for peace after that, but her mum had just grown twitchy and bitter.
Daria had graduated from a top university, landed a fancy job as a translator. Jane, after slogging through a distance-learning biology degree, was stuck in an environmental lab, hating every minute—another reason to seethe.
And now this. Daria getting married. Anton meant nothing to Jane, but the sheer unfairness of it burned. She’d had boyfriends, but none ever stuck. All she wanted was a grand white dress—and to escape her mum. Why did mousy little Daria get everything?
“You’re not even listening!” Daria tugged her arm.
“Huh? What’d you say?” Jane had been lost in thought.
“I said I’ll toss you the bouquet at the wedding—you’ll be next!” Daria pointed to a woman selling jewelry on a park bench. “I noticed her yesterday. Let’s look!”
“What do you want with tat like that?” Jane sneered at the display of cheap trinkets glittering in the sun.
Daria picked up a tiny ring with a white stone. “Can I try it?”
“No charge to try. But I won’t sell it to you,” the woman said.
“Why not?” Daria clutched it.
“You’ll be wearing a wedding band soon. Mixing metals is tacky.” The woman rummaged and held up a polished metal pendant on a thin chain. “This, though—take it. It’ll bring you luck.”
“She’s already lucky,” Jane muttered.
“And you’re jealous,” the woman shot back.
Daria dug out three ten-pound notes. “It’s all I’ve got.”
“Keep it. Wear it in good health,” the woman smiled.
Jane rolled her eyes—but even she had to admit the pendant had charm.
A week later, Daria collected her altered dress. As she changed, the assistant packed it into a massive box.
“How am I supposed to carry this to work?” Daria panicked.
“Take a cab or leave it here till evening.”
Back at the office, she tried calling Anton—no answer. Unusual. He worked from home but always kept his phone on for clients.
Her stomach knotted. She left early, rushing to his flat. The door swung open—but it was Jane standing there, wearing Anton’s shirt, Daria’s pendant around her neck.
“What are you doing here? Where’s Anton?”
“Exhausted. Sleeping,” Jane smirked.
Daria shoved past her. Anton lay on the sofa, bare-chested, a blanket over his legs.
“Anton!” she shouted. He stirred but didn’t wake.
“Convinced?” Jane taunted.
Daria spun around. “How could you?” Sobbing, she fled.
At home, she crumpled. “No wedding,” she told her mum between gasps.
“Don’t be hasty. Talk to Anton.”
“Never!”
But they did talk. He waited outside her work.
“Dasha, listen. I don’t love Jane. She came over, asked for help with something online. Last thing I remember is drinking tea with her.”
“That’s it? You don’t remember sleeping with her?” She tried to push past, but he caught her arm.
“I remember nothing. I love you. Please—”
She tore free and ran.
She missed him but couldn’t forgive—until Jane announced she was pregnant.
“You don’t mind if I wear your dress, do you?” Jane grinned.
Three weeks later, Daria watched from her window as a ribbon-decked car pulled up next door. Anton stepped out, glancing toward her house. For a second, she thought he was looking at her. She jerked back, heart hammering.
When she peeked again, her mum was helping Jane into the car, hoisting the dress’s voluminous skirt—her dress. Anton must’ve already been inside.
Daria fled to her room, dissolving into tears. Life blurred into a numb haze. She remembered tossing the pendant into a drawer—Jane must’ve stolen it, just like she’d stolen her happiness.
The newlyweds moved in with Anton. Daria avoided them—until she bumped into Jane’s mum at the shops.
“How are you, Dasha?”
“Fine.”
“Jane’s having a boy. She treated you rotten, but they’re making it work. Forgive her—”
“Don’t,” Daria cut her off and hurried away.
New Year’s Eve, laden with shopping bags, Daria nearly collided with Jane pushing a pram.
“Hi! Long time no see. Shopping spree?” Jane nodded at her bags. “I never get the time now. Victor’s a handful. You should see his little—”
“Sorry, I’ve got to go,” Daria mumbled, fumbling with her keys.
“Happy New Year!” Jane called after her.
Daria didn’t look back.
By spring, Anton was alone—no Jane, just a pram and a weary slump to his shoulders.
They talked.
“Jane left. Said Victor wasn’t mine. She lied. There was never anything between us. She spiked my tea—I blacked out. Then she claimed she was pregnant. What was I supposed to do?”
Daria listened, heart in her throat.
“He’s not mine by blood, but he’s my son. I won’t give him up.” Anton’s eyes softened when he spoke of the boy.
So they started again—walks in the park, birthdays together.
“What if Jane comes back?” her mum fretted.
“She won’t. She signed away her rights and fled with some bloke abroad.”
Daria touched the pendant at her throat—the one Jane had left behind.
Not that it mattered. Love had found its way back, despite the lies. Anton had been trapped, tangled in Jane’s scheming. She’d stolen him, but not the bond he and Daria shared.
Life wasn’t smooth—people made mistakes. But they’d weathered betrayal and come out stronger.
