Dennis had brought back a dress for me—a trendy piece with a fitted bodice and a flowy skirt, the kind I rarely wore. The tag proudly declared it as part of this year's "pure seduction" collection, though wearing it made me feel exposed rather than alluring.
The scars on my arms and calves were visible against the pale fabric, their jagged lines stark under the room's fluorescent light. I'd grown used to them over the years, but I couldn't help wondering what others thought when they saw them. Would they see strength? Or would they only see the ugliness of a broken past?
I said nothing as I slipped on the dress. Dennis's eyes lingered for a moment, his expression unreadable, but he didn't comment.
We left on his sportbike, the wind cool against my face as we weaved through the streets. Sitting on the back, I lightly patted his shoulder to signal him to stop.
Dennis pulled over smoothly, removing his helmet as he turned to look at me. "What's wrong? I wasn't going too fast, was I?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.
"No," I said, pointing to a mall across the street. "I just... I want to change out of this dress. It doesn't suit me."