After a brief pause, Ambrose summoned someone to bring over a few dresses.
“Hazel,” he said softly, “I know you’ve been busy lately, so I asked Scarlett to pick out a wedding dress for you. Take a look and see if any of them catch your eye.”
Scarlett’s voice rang out cheerfully as she leaned in close.
“Sis, I’m your bridesmaid, remember? We’ll be walking down the aisle together, and everyone will see just how stunning we both look!”
Her father, a picture of affection, ruffled Scarlett’s hair with a proud smile.
Ambrose, too, grinned at the father-daughter moment, clearly pleased.
But Hazel couldn’t tear her eyes away from the wedding dress in front of her.
The fabric had yellowed with age, the cheap material stretched thin, and a large tear marred the chest. It stood out in stark contrast to Scarlett’s bridesmaid dress, elegantly designed with delicate lace and a fishtail cut that hugged her figure. If anyone looked like a bride, it was Scarlett.
Scarlett twirled with delight, her excitement evident in every spin.
“It’s gorgeous! If I had a crown, it would be perfect.”