Page 106 of What Goes Around

I snapped a selfie, then another, followed by a slow pan of the room, gowns hanging, assistants moving, the quiet chaos of preparation.

People loved the process. Loved the illusion of intimacy.

I posted a short story. Not too revealing. Just enough.

Big night.

Feeling grateful.

The likes started coming in almost immediately.

I filmed another clip when my nails were finished, pale and elegant, fingers resting lightly on my thigh. Then one more when my hairdresser stepped back and said, “Perfect.”

I smiled for the camera like it had all happened naturally.

Ashley would never understand this part.

Mom stood near the window, checking messages from downstairs.

“Ashley didn’t want to get ready with us,” she said. “I invited her. She said she had plans.”

I lowered my phone. “Plans for what?”

Mom’s mouth tightened. “She said she’d arrive on her own. As if that’s appropriate.”

I frowned, irritation blooming.

“That’s weird. She used to be so easy. You’d tell her something and she’d just accept it.”

Mom brushed imaginary lint from her sleeve.

“Well,” she said dismissively, “it’s her loss.”

I flipped the camera back on myself, catching my reflection from a better angle. Another short clip. Another smile.

“I hope she wears the dress I picked,” mom said, not looking at me.

I smiled at the camera.

“Of course she will. She wants your approval too much not to.”

We shared a soft laugh. Quiet. Conspiratorial.

Then Mom’s smile thinned.

“But something’s changed,” she said quietly. “She doesn’t… reach for me the way she used to. She’s unpredictable lately. Secretive.”

That scared her. I could hear it in the way she said it.

For a moment, the makeup artist stepped away to coordinate with the dress assistant.

“I still haven’t gotten her signature,” Mom whispered. “Every time I bring it up, she delays. She wants to read things now.”

I scoffed. “She’s just pretending to be smart.”

“Still,” Mom said. “Talk to her tonight. Convince her.”

I smiled. “I will.”