The room was still, soaked in quiet shadows and pale moonlight. Outside, the city of Hillgovia lay hushed beneath the late midnight hour.
Kourtney slept soundly, her breath even, one arm curled under her pillow.
Then—
Tap. Tap.
A light knock against her bedroom door.
"Kourtney?"
The voice was soft—gentle but shaken.
She stirred slightly.
Another pause.
The door eased open, revealing Jenna standing in the doorway, her sweater sleeves pulled over her hands, phone clutched tightly.
"Kourt," she tried again, a bit louder now.
Kourtney blinked her eyes open, slow but alert. "What's wrong?" Her voice was still low, touched with sleep.
Jenna stepped inside. Her face was pale, brows drawn. Not frantic—but something had clearly rattled her.
"I… I just got a call. From Perrie."
Kourtney sat up fully now, brushing her hair from her face. "What happened?"
"I don't know," Jenna said quickly. "He was trying not to panic, but I could tell something's off. He asked for you."
Kourtney was already pushing the blanket aside, her movements swift but steady. "Did he say where he was?"
"At the studio," Jenna nodded. "He didn't give details, just asked if I could reach you."
Kourtney was on her feet now, tugging on a jacket and pulling her hair into a loose tie. "Alright. We'll go together."
Jenna stood aside as Kourtney laced up her shoes. "You think it's serious?"
"I don't know," Kourtney said honestly, glancing at her. "But he wouldn't call this late unless it was."
There was no panic in her tone, just quiet focus.
Jenna nodded, slipping on her own cardigan, her fingers fidgeting with the sleeves.
The two of them stepped out into the quiet hallway, the soft click of the door the only sound between them.
They walked down the stairwell together, night air spilling in from the windows, cool and still.
Jenna stole a glance at Kourtney—calm, sharp, centered even now.
Something about that always made her feel a little safer.
________________________________________
The glass doors slid open with a mechanical hiss as Kourtney and Jenna stepped into the studio lobby—sleek concrete floors, dim motion-sensor lights flickering to life above them, one by one. The air smelled faintly of fabric glue and lavender steam spray. Somewhere in the background, soft synth music hummed through a forgotten speaker.
"Perrie?" Kourtney called.
"Yes! Yes, I'm in here!" came his voice.
They followed the voice down the corridor.
Perrie stood in his office—robe half tied, slippers on, a mug of now-lukewarm tea abandoned on the desk. His usually composed demeanor was jittery, eyes wide from hours of pacing.
Jenna lingered in the doorway, arms folded.
"You said it was urgent."
"It is! You came—thank heavens." Perrie motioned them in, already moving toward a rack near the wall.
Kourtney didn't budge. Her tone was flat.
"You called nearly midnight. You've got one minute to make that make sense."
"It's the gown, the one for the ball tonight Bella's assistant was supposed to pick up the gown before midnight. She never showed up. And now it has to be delivered… immediately."
Kourtney blinked slowly.
"…What gown? What ball?"
"Oh—" He stopped, blinking back like it had slipped his mind. "Right. I didn't tell you."
He unzipped a pearl-toned garment bag with practiced care, revealing a shimmer of crystal-threaded silk and a delicate feather-trimmed hem.
"A Perrie original," he said with a rushed breath. "Hand-sewn. Custom fit. Bella Andrews is wearing it tonight to represent the brand."
Jenna blinked slowly.
"Wait... so we came all this way… because a dress didn't get picked up?"
"Not just a dress—a one-of-a-kind, hand-sequined, feather-draped Perrie original for Bella Andrews. The ball may have started. And she's expecting it."
Kourtney's gaze didn't waver. Her voice dropped, sharp and unimpressed.
"And you thought calling me—panicked—at midnight was the best course of action?"
Perrie blinked, caught off guard.
"I—I didn't mean to. I just panicked. I didn't know who else to call…"
Kourtney shook her head and sat down.
"Unbelievable."
Perrie rubbed his hands together nervously. "Actually... the point is, ma petite—would you deliver the dress to the ball for me?"
Silence stretched across the room. Jenna's eyebrows shot up.
"Wait, what?" she said, blinking. "You want us to take it there? As in… to the palace?"
Kourtney gave Perrie a look of disbelief, her voice low. "Please tell me you're not serious."
"I am," he said, half-whispering now.
"The gown has to be there before midnight which is in fifteen minutes. I thought someone from the palace would come for it, but plans changed—"
Jenna stepped back, folding her arms tightly. "We're not on any guest list, Mr. Perrie. That's a royal venue."
Perrie gave her a pleading look. "No one's going to stop you," he said cheerfully. "Staff and assistants are going in and out all day. Just say you're with wardrobe. Drop it. Leave."
Kourtney sighed and rubbed her temple."And this couldn't have been handled with a delivery guy?" she asked, tone clipped.
"I don't trust delivery guys with this much glasswork," he said simply. "And Bella's place is too far. The palace is five minutes away. You're perfect for this."
Perrie went on, cheerfully blind to it all. "I'd go myself but I have a dozen fittings to prep before morning. You're the only ones I could trust."
Kourtney remained quiet for a moment; her jaw tight.
Kourtney exhaled through her nose. "All this—just to play courier?"
Perrie clasped his hands together, pleading now. "Ma chérie, you'll be doing me a massive favor. This would mean a lot to me. It'll take thirty minutes, max."
Kourtney looked at the gown, then at Jenna. then back at him. "And how exactly are we supposed to get this to her?"
"Just walk straight in—head to the event hall. There's a vanity room assigned to her; all the details are on the label," he said, holding it out for them to see.
"You knew I'd say no if you told me upfront," Kourtney said flatly.
"I was hoping seeing me this desperate might work in my favor," Perrie admitted with a sheepish smile.
Kourtney stared.
Then finally—
"…Fine. But don't do this again."
Jenna shifted beside her, like she might speak—but didn't. She sighed, and moved forward to pick the bag.
Perrie beamed. "Merci! You two are saving my entire reputation."
"Just this once," Kourtney warned. "Next time you pull a stunt like this, I'm sending Jenna alone."
Jenna scoffed. "Please don't."