The morning light spilled lazily through Selene's curtains, soft and golden. Her apartment was quiet — the kind of silence you only get when the city's still half-asleep. She was halfway through her first sip of matcha when her phone rang, screen flashing Tiana 💄.
Selene frowned.
8:02 AM.
Too early for Tiana to be calling unless—
She answered. "Hello?"
"Selene! Thank God." Tiana's voice was frantic. "I need you."
Selene blinked, setting her cup down. "What's wrong?"
"Emergency. Full-on disaster. Can you come over?"
"Ti, you're not making any sense. What happened?"
"My dress," she groaned. "The tailor messed it up, and now it's like this ridiculous—just—ugh, can you please just come look at it? I can't trust anyone else."
Selene closed her eyes briefly. "You woke me up… for a dress?"
"No. You're my best friend. I woke you up because you're the only one who'll be honest and fix it before tonight. Please, Sel. I'm begging you."
There was a dramatic sniff on the other end. Selene could almost picture her — barefoot, manicured nails flying, tossing fabrics around like a fashion-fueled hurricane.
"Fine," Selene sighed. "Give me twenty minutes."
"You're a literal angel. I'll make mimosas."
The line clicked dead.
Selene stared at the screen for a second, then let out a soft laugh.
Mim
osas before 9 AM. Classic Tiana.
Selene pulled up in front of Tiana's condo just before 8:30. The neighborhood was still half-asleep, except for the early joggers and dog walkers pacing past with coffee in hand. She stepped out in a loose silk blouse and jeans, hair pinned back, no makeup — just enough effort for someone who thought they were here to play damage control.
Tiana was already at the door, barefoot and smiling like the sun.
"You're my lifesaver," she gushed, pulling Selene into a hug that smelled like vanilla and sleep.
"I left my matcha for this," Selene muttered, stepping inside.
The condo was a mess — open garment bags on every surface, hangers poking out of couch cushions, half-eaten strawberries on a tray next to two already-poured glasses of mimosa.
Selene raised a brow. "Planning a crisis brunch?"
Tiana waved a hand. "The world's ending. I needed vitamins."
She grabbed a sleek navy-blue dress from the rack and held it up like it was bleeding.
"Look at this. Just look."
Selene tilted her head. "It's gorgeous."
"No—it's a disaster. The slit's too high, the back dips too low, and don't even get me started on the bust line."
Selene walked closer, fingertips grazing the fabric. "It's custom. You can't just demand a miracle without at least a second fitting."
"I need it to be perfect, Sel," Tiana said, voice suddenly quiet. "It's my birthday."
Selene looked up. There was something in Tiana's eyes — wide, glassy, too dramatic for a wardrobe malfunction. But she let it go.
"I'll tweak it," she said finally. "Bring it to the studio in an hour. Camilla's good with emergency alterations."
Tiana's entire body relaxed. "You're the best."
Selene grabbed a
mimosa and took a sip. "I know."