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Abigail blushed, her eyes lowering. "It feels… a little too much. I'm not used to such fine clothes."
Aurora chuckled warmly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
"Every woman feels that way the first time. But trust me, you'll grow into it. Besides, a bride must shine. It's a once-in-a-lifetime moment, hmm?"
They moved from one boutique to another, attendants bustling around them with boxes of shoes, trays of jewelry, and perfumes that filled the air with sweetness. Aurora insisted Abigail try everything, from elegant gowns to delicate lace gloves. Liliana followed closely, carrying packages and occasionally whispering encouragement whenever Abigail looked overwhelmed.
At one point, Aurora picked up a golden tiara adorned with tiny pearls. She placed it gently on Abigail's head.
"There," she said proudly. "Now you look like a true princess."
Abigail laughed softly, the tension in her chest easing a little. "Princess? I feel more like a child playing dress-up."
"Then let's play until it feels real," Aurora replied with a wink.
For the first time since arriving at the hotel, Abigail's smile was genuine. The laughter, the brightness of the shop, and Aurora's playful energy slowly chased away the heaviness in her heart. She wasn't sure what awaited her in two days, but in that moment—surrounded by silk, jewels, and the gentle presence of Liliana—she felt just a little braver.
IN MORPHEUS' BEDROOM
The moonlight spilled gently through the half-drawn curtains, bathing the grand bedroom in a silvery glow. Morpheus lay sprawled on the velvet sheets, his arm lazily wrapped around Aurora. Her head rested on his chest, rising and falling with the rhythm of his heartbeat. She absentmindedly traced circles across his skin with her index finger, her face shadowed with unease.
"Don't you think we should tell him first about the wedding?" Aurora's voice was low, careful, as though afraid her words might shatter the fragile peace in the room.
"We've told him already, but does he look like he cares?" Morpheus' tone was calm but firm. His gaze remained fixed on the ceiling. "We're doing this for him. He should be grateful."
Aurora frowned, lifting her eyes to study her husband. "You know we don't have to make it awkward."
"Honey," Morpheus chuckled dryly, "have you forgotten the kind of son we have? Do you want him to vanish before the ceremony even begins? It's better we keep this quiet—our way—or we risk losing him forever."
"That will never happen," she snapped back, too sharply.
He turned his head toward her, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "So stay calm. I have a plan."
Aurora's brows knitted together. "Another plan? Hope it's not something reckless," she murmured, her voice betraying nerves.
"Trust me, love."
Her eyes narrowed playfully, though suspicion glimmered in them. "And what is this genius plan all about?"
Morpheus inhaled slowly before answering. "The only person Sullivan listens to is my mother. So I want us to—"
"Wait." Aurora lifted her head off his chest, her eyes widening. "You can't mean to involve your mother. She's ill, in the hospital. You can't be serious about dragging her into this."
He smirked, pulling her closer by the waist until she could feel the warmth of his body pressing into hers. "Baby, desperate times call for desperate measures. And right now, this is the only way to guarantee this wedding."
Aurora gasped softly as his hand slid lower, his body hard and insistent against her. "Even in your old age, Morpheus," she teased breathlessly, "you still haven't changed."
"How could I change," he whispered, brushing his lips against her ear, "when I have a woman like you? You make me feel young again—like it's the nineties all over."
Her laughter melted into his kiss, and soon the room filled with the sound of heavy breaths, silk sheets shifting, and the kind of passion only years of fire could forge. Slowly, the scene dissolved into darkness.
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ABIGAIL'S ROOM – THE NEXT MORNING
The morning sun crept gently into Abigail's chamber, streaming through golden curtains and casting a warm glow on the polished floor. She had barely slept, her mind a battlefield of fears and fragile hopes.
Needing calm, she slipped into a scented bath already prepared by the servants. Steam rose in soft, ghostlike curls, and the floral aroma wrapped around her like a fragile cocoon. Closing her eyes, Abigail let her fingers ripple through the water, whispering to herself: Two days… in just two days, everything changes.
By the time she stepped out, her hair clung damply to her shoulders, her skin flushed and glowing. She tied a robe around herself and returned to her room, where Liliana stood waiting with clothes neatly arranged on the bed.
"Shall I help you dress, ma'am?" Liliana asked softly, bowing her head in respect.
Abigail gave a nervous smile. "Alright… but only because I've no idea how to wear half these gowns."
Liliana chuckled warmly. "That's what I'm here for."
With gentle precision, she slipped Abigail into a delicate cream-colored dress lined with lace. Her fingers brushed through Abigail's hair, weaving it into an elegant style.
A knock interrupted them.
"I'll check," Liliana said, crossing swiftly to the door.
"Is my daughter in?" Elsa's voice floated in, warm and soft.
"Yes, ma'am," Liliana replied, opening the door.
Elsa stepped in, and Liliana excused herself with a bow before leaving.
"Mom," Abigail whispered, rushing into her arms.
"My angel," Elsa murmured, holding her close. "How are you, truly?"
"Coping," Abigail confessed quietly.
"You're doing wonderfully, love." Elsa's tone was bright, but her eyes glistened.
"I heard you went shopping with Aurora yesterday… you bought the gown?" Her voice trembled with excitement.