Page 18 of Dark Chains: First Link
The skirt, however, was where the dress became truly dramatic. Layer upon layer of tulle cascaded from the waist in asymmetrictiers, each one slightly longer than the last, creating a waterfall effect that seemed ethereal. It moved when she moved. The layers shifted and floated around her, creating an impression of something that had been designed for a movie star walking the red carpet rather than someone like her, who until recently hadn't dared to leave the house without covering her hair.
"Dear Fates, Arezoo," Donya said with a gasp from the bed, where she was sitting cross-legged with a pillow clutched to her chest. "Dear merciful Fates."
Both her sisters had embraced the clan's belief in the Fates, but Donya was overdoing it, perhaps because it was new, or because it rattled their mother, who wasn't ready to adopt any new belief system to replace the old.
"Stop saying that," Arezoo said.
"I can't. You look like a movie star."
"I look like someone who is impersonating one. This is not me."
"But you want it to be you," Laleh said. "So just play the role and get comfortable in it. When will you have another chance to wear a dress this spectacular?"
"Never."
"Exactly."
Laleh tilted her head, studying the dress with the critical eye of a sixteen-year-old fashionista who considered herself an authority on all matters sartorial. "The color is perfect on you. You have the skin tone for it. Most people can't wear that shade of red without looking washed out or like they're trying too hard, but on you it just works."
"Ruvon said the same thing."
"Ruvon has an excellent eye," Donya said. "He picked you, and you are the best."
Arezoo felt a blush creep up her cheeks, and it wasn't because her sister was complimenting her more than she deserved. It was Donya mentioning Ruvon's feelings for her as if they were a self-evident fact rather than an ongoing marvel.
"He convinced me to get this dress," she said, smoothing her hands over the tulle. "I told him it was too much, too expensive, too grandiose, and too revealing. He said it was stunning on me and that I needed to stop arguing and let him buy it."
"I'm glad that he put his foot down," Laleh said approvingly. "He's been letting Maman boss him around, and I was starting to think that he was a pushover."
"He's not a pushover. He just likes being helpful, but he can be persuasive when he needs to."
"Good." Donya unfolded herself from the bed and walked over to stand behind Arezoo, meeting her eyes in the mirror.
At seventeen, Donya was already as tall as her and had the same dark eyes, but where Arezoo's features were soft and a little rounded, Donya's were sharper and more defined, as if the same genetic material had been assembled with more confidence.
"When Ruvon sees you in this dress tomorrow," Donya said, "he is going to lose his mind."
"He already saw me in the dress, remember? He was there when I tried it on."
Donya waved a dismissive hand. "Trying on a dress in a store with bad lighting and your hair in a ponytail is completely different from wearing the dress at a party with your hair done, makeup on, and high heels. That's the difference between looking like you are impersonating a movie star and actually acting like one. Trust me. He's going to take one look at you and forget how to form sentences."
Arezoo chuckled. "You forget that he's not as young as he looks. I don't think a dress is going to render him speechless."
"The dress by itself might not, but you in it and all decked out will," Laleh said with absolute certainty.
Arezoo shifted to the side and looked at her back in the mirror. The straps crossed in a low V that revealed more of her spine than she had ever shown in public before, and the tiered skirt had just enough movement to suggest the presence of legs underneath without actually revealing them.
It was elegant and dramatic and unlike anything she had ever owned or even dreamt of owning.
She loved it, but she was not comfortable in it, and since the cocktail party was tomorrow, she didn't have much time to get used to the idea of being seen in something so extravagant.
The butterflies in her stomach were performing their acrobatics, intensifying their wing-flapping with every passing day that brought her closer to next Saturday. The cocktail party tomorrow was the pre-wedding celebration, and after that, the wedding itself, and after that, the wedding night.
Arezoo's stomach clenched and then twisted, the complicated maneuver a metaphor for the excitement and anticipation on one hand and anxiety on the other.
She wanted it.
She wanted Ruvon with intense yearning, which was surprising given her past and the association of physical intimacy with violence and pain.
