Chapter 132 Boutique

Chapter 132 Boutique
“I swear,” she nodded without hesitation.
I exhaled slowly, my grip on her hand loosening just a little.

“…okay,” I said finally.

Her face lit up, relief flashing across her features. “Okay,” she echoed, smiling. “Good. That’s a start.”

She stood, clapping her hands lightly. “Now come on, we’re not going out with you looking like you just rolled out of emotional warfare.”
A small laugh slipped from my lips before I could stop it.

“Hey,” I protested weakly.

“Go get dressed,” she pointed toward the wardrobe. “Something cute.”

I hesitated for only a second before sliding off the bed. Each step felt strange. Like I was stepping into something unfamiliar. Like I was stepping back into the world.

Getting dressed took longer than it should have.
Not because I didn’t know what to wear… but because every time I looked at myself in the mirror, my chest tightened.

The scars, they looked faint in some places and angry and raised in others. A reminder of him.
My fingers hovered over them, tracing lightly before I forced myself to stop.

“You’re okay,” I whispered to my reflection, though it didn’t fully settle the storm inside me.
I chose a simple outfit. Something soft. Something that didn’t cling to my body too tightly.

Something that made me feel… a little less exposed. When I stepped out, Richelle looked up from her phone.

“Well damn,” she grinned. “Look at you.”

Heat crept up my cheeks. “Stop.”

“I’m serious,” she said, walking over to me. “You look beautiful.”

My gaze dropped instinctively. But this time, I didn’t argue.

“Ready?” she asked.

I nodded. The car ride was quiet at first. The city moved around us, loud and alive, people everywhere, cars rushing by. I kept my hands in my lap, fingers twisting together as I stared out the window.

It felt… overwhelming. But not unbearable, not with Richelle there. She glanced at me occasionally but didn’t force conversation, letting me adjust at my own pace.

At some point, she picked up her phone.
“Texting Damien,” she said casually.

My heart skipped slightly at his name. “What are you telling him?” I asked.

“That I kidnapped you,” she smirked.

I blinked. “Richelle—”

“I’m joking,” she laughed, typing quickly. “I told him we’re going out for a movie and shopping. To help you relax.”

I swallowed, looking away. A moment later, her phone buzzed. She checked it, then smiled.
“He sent money,” she said. “And told me to take care of you.”

My chest tightened slightly. “He noticed you’ve been… anxious,” she added gently.

I didn’t respond. Because he was right. I had been. The movie theater wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.

Dim lights, soft chatter. Nothing threatening.
Still, I stayed close to Richelle, my shoulder brushing hers as we found our seats. Her hand found mine and she held onto me like a child, but I wasn't complaining. I appreciated the contact.

“What are we watching?” I asked.

“A cartoon,” she said proudly.

I blinked. “A cartoon?”

“Don’t judge,” she grinned. “It’s fun.”

I huffed out a quiet laugh, settling into my seat.
As the movie started, something surprising happened. I… relaxed, slowly. Bit by bit. The colors, the silly characters. The ridiculous dialogue.

It pulled me in and before I realized it, I was laughing. Actually laughing. “That one is my favorite,” I whispered at one point, pointing at the screen. “He’s so dramatic for no reason.”

Richelle snorted. “You like chaotic characters, I see.”

“He’s not chaotic,” I defended. “He’s misunderstood.”

She gave me a look. I rolled my eyes. By the time the movie ended, my cheeks hurt from smiling, from laughing. From feeling… something other than fear. I could not remember the last time I felt so light.

“That was fun,” I admitted as we stood.

“Told you,” she nudged me. For the first time in a long while, my chest felt… lighter.

The boutique was different.
The moment we stepped inside, something shifted. The mirrors, the bright lights, the mannequins. My chest tightened again. I walked slowly between the racks, my fingers brushing against the fabrics.

Beautiful clothes in soft colors. Things I used to love but now… My gaze landed on a mannequin wearing a fitted dress. My reflection caught in the mirror beside it.

And suddenly, all I could see were the scars.
My throat tightened, my vision blurred. “I can’t,” I whispered, stepping back.

Richelle turned immediately. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t wear these,” I shook my head, tears welling. “I can’t… look like that anymore.”

Her expression softened instantly. “Jasmine…”

“I don’t look right,” my voice broke. “I’m not—”

She pulled me into a hug before I could finish.
“You are beautiful,” she said firmly.

I shook my head against her shoulder. “These scars…” I whispered.

“They show you survived,” she interrupted gently.

That broke me. A sob tore from my chest as I clutched onto her. She didn’t let go, didn’t rush me. Just held me as I cried. After a moment, she guided me toward a dressing room.

“Let it out,” she murmured.
And I did. I cried until my chest ached. Until the weight inside me loosened just a little. When I finally calmed down, she handed me a few outfits.

“Try these,” she said softly. I hesitated, then nodded. One by one, I tried them on and slowly…very slowly… I started to like what I saw again.

A small smile formed. “Okay,” I admitted, stepping out in one of the dresses.

Richelle beamed. “See? Gorgeous.”

Heat rose to my cheeks.

By the time we left, she had bought more than I expected. “You didn’t have to,” I said.

“I wanted to,” she shrugged