Forbidden Love: My Daddy's Best Friend novel Chapter 111

Chapter 111 

As the day wore on, a sense of exhaustion settled over me like a heavy cloak, weighing down my spirits even as the excitement of the day lingered in the air. 

Emily and Sally had proven to be invaluable; their warmth and generosity helped to settle my nerves with me not knowing much about them. 

With each passing hour, I found myself delving deeper into Emily’s conversation, learning more about Desmond and their life. Her insights offered a glimpse into a world of Alaric’s I didn’t know existed. 

Meanwhile, Sally regaled me with tales of William and Alaric’s history, shedding light on the simmering tensions that lurked beneath the surface. Her words painted a portrait of two men bound by blood yet divided by pride, their unresolved conflicts casting a shadow over any good in their lives. 

Despite the wealth of knowledge gleaned from our conversations, the day’s main objective remained elusive. Four bridal shops and countless dresses later, I found myself no closer to finding the perfect gown. Each fitting seemed to blur together in a haze of tulle and lace, the allure of the dresses fading beneath the weight of disappointment. 

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With each passing moment, my hope began to dissapear, replaced by a growing sense of frustration and doubt. The dresses I had tried on seemed to lack magic, leaving me feeling boring while wearing them. 

“Most are… I don’t even know the word for it,” I confessed to everyone, my voice tinged with frustration. “Plain, or look like the net curtains in someone’s window.” 

Bex laughs at my comparison, but it’s how I feel. 

A heavy sigh escaped my lips as sank into a nearby chair, the exhaustion of the day catching up to me in waves. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of defeat that gnawed at the edges of my consciousness. 

“I’m feeling less hopeful right now that I will find a dress,” I admitted, my words heavy with disappointment. “I’ve tried so many on, and none feel right.” 

As the reality of our situation sank in, I couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps our search needed to extend beyond the confines of our current surroundings. Perhaps the perfect dress lay waiting for me in a far–off boutique. 

But for now, all I could do was hold onto the flicker of hope that still burned within me, trusting that somehow, someway, I would find the gown that would make me feel like a bride. 

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As Bex called my name, I turned, feeling a surge of weariness wash over me. I was ready to call it a day, to admit defeat in our seemingly endless quest for the perfect dress. But as she held up the gown, a flicker of curiosity sparked within me, an inexplicable urge to at least entertain the possibility. 

Taking the dress from her outstretched hands, I made my way to the dressing area, the anticipation building with each step. With the help of the attendant, I slipped into the gown, the fabric cascading around me like a shimmering waterfall. 

As I stepped out from behind the curtain, I gasped at the sight before me. The dress was stunning, a vision of ethereal beauty that took my breath away. The plunging V–neckline dipped lower than I had anticipated, but the intricate beadwork and delicate sequins lent it an air of timeless elegance. I turned to see that it was backless. 

“I think this is it,” I declared with a smile, the words tumbling from my lips with a sense of certainty that I hadn’t felt all day. 

But as I basked in the glow of my newfound discovery, my mother’s voice cut through the moment like a knife, her disapproval casting a shadow over my joy. 

“Is there a way to fix the front?” she asked, her words tinged with concern. 

I bristled at her suggestion, my confidence faltering in the face of her criticism. “The front is fine,” I insisted, my voice laced 

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with frustration. 

But my mother remained unmoved, her disapproval palpable as she voiced her objections. “Ruby, it’s too revealing. Highly 

inappropriate for a wedding,” she admonished, her words struck 

a nerve. 

I felt my temper flare at her words, and a surge of defeat rose. within me. Yes, the neckline was daring, but it was also undeniably beautiful, reflecting my own sense of style and individuality. 

“It’s perfectly fine, Mother,” I retorted, though the uncertainty in my voice betrayed my resolve. 

But she wasn’t finished yet, her criticism growing louder with each passing moment. “You’re getting married; you’re showing too much skin,” she continued, her words a relentless barrage that left me reeling. 

With a heavy heart, I turned away, retreating behind the safety of the curtain as I struggled to contain the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me. Why did she have to cause issues? 

As Sally joined me and settled into a chair beside me, her presence offered a comforting feeling. 

“I know that you said your parents were religious and strict, I 

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didn’t think you meant this bad.” Her words carried a weight of understanding that resonated deeply, her chuckle a gentle. reminder that I wasn’t alone in facing the challenges posed by my mother’s rigid beliefs. 

“Anyone would think I was trying to get married in lingerie with how she is acting,” I remarked with a wry smile. My mother’s disapproval was nothing new, but somehow, her criticism felt more personal when it came to something as significant as my wedding dress.