Girls, I just realized… we still haven't dressed up."
A beat of silence. Then we all burst into laughter, tangled in blankets and nerves.
"Ladies!" a voice boomed through the hallway. "You have ten minutes!"
"We're dead meat," I muttered.
And just like that, chaos erupted.
Lipsticks flew, zippers zipped, shoes scattered across the floor. In just under two minutes, through some miracle, we were ready. Dressed to the nines and breathless, we rushed toward the grand staircase just as the roll call began.
Descending in our stunning dresses, the hall suddenly didn't feel so intimidating. Heads turned. Murmurs rose. We caught attention and we knew it.
But just as I was soaking it all in, a gentle tap on my shoulder made me spin around.
"Mother?" I whispered, startled.
She stood there, regal and composed.
"You came."
"Of course I did," she said coolly. Her eyes scanned my dress. "Though… that's not quite your style. I brought something more…."
"Mother," I cut in softly, "I love my dress. Thank you."
I didn't want to fight, not today.
Turning, I signaled to Mr. Darcy. "Please, could you show my mother to her seat? Thank you." I offered her a polite smile. "Have fun, Mother. Please."
Back with the girls, I spotted the printed agenda in Ava's hands.
"Look," she said, "we each have our times for the presentations."
"I'm going to need that whiskey now," I sighed, rubbing my hands together nervously.
"Yesss," Cassie agreed. "Bring it in."
"You guys, I'm up next!" Nala squealed. "Wish me luck!"
One by one, they each went up,Nala, Ava, and Cassie. Each of their performances was mesmerizing, unique, and bold. Watching them own the stage filled me with both pride… and mounting dread.
I was the last.
The lights, the unfamiliar faces, the swell of the crowd, it all pressed down on me like a heavy fog.
Then the host stepped forward, voice echoing through the speaker:
"Please welcome our final presenter for the evening. Known for her honorific words and soul-stirring perspective… Melody Brooke!"
Applause.
I rose to my feet, heart pounding in my chest like war drums. Every step I took reminded me of the funeral. The walk, the silence, the stares.
I reached the stage and looked out. Just then, I caught his gaze. He came.
But in the very next breath, he was gone.
I searched for him again, scanning the crowd. Nothing.
No Ava. No Cassie. No Nala. No Aunt Grace.
Panic clawed at my throat. My fingers tightened around the mic. The lights were too bright. The room too quiet.
I looked to Mother. Her expression offered nothing just cold disapproval.
And for a terrifying moment, I froze.
Maybe this isn't for me, I thought. Maybe Mother's right. Maybe I belong back in the kitchen with Nanny Chopper, scrubbing dishes and writing dreams that never get read.
Then
"Melody!"
A single voice, small and determined, broke through the noise.
Then another.
"You can do this, Melody!" Ava shouted from the crowd, arms waving above her head like a beacon.
And there they were, my girls. The three beautiful souls I met just 48 hours ago, standing like guardians in a sea of strangers.
Behind them, Aunt Grace. Elegant, proud, and radiating belief.
Something in me cracked open. Confidence, raw and real, poured in.
I smiled.
And I found my voice.
Melody steps forward to the microphone, heart pounding but with a smile softening her features. The crowd hushes. Lights warm her face. She takes a breath—and begins:
"Good evening, everyone.
If you had told me a few weeks ago that I'd be standing here, on this stage, in front of all of you, I probably would've laughed nervously… or maybe stayed silent. Because I used to believe my voice was best kept hidden between the pages of a journal. I thought my story didn't matter. But tonight… I'm beginning to see how wrong I was.
This show, this moment, is more than a showcase of beauty and fashion. For me, it's a declaration of strength. A soft revolution wrapped in silk, sequins, and honesty. And it's also proof that transformation isn't always loud, it can start quietly, with a single step, or a pen pressed to paper.
When I arrived at Dynasty Hall, I felt like an outsider. Lost in the noise of bolder, brighter voices. But I found something extraordinary, sisterhood. Ava, Nala, Cassie... you didn't just include me. You lifted me. You showed me what courage looks like when it wears heels and lipstick, and what loyalty feels like when it's wrapped in laughter and late-night talks.
And to my Gracey, thank you. For creating not just a fashion show, but a movement. One that gives women space to rise, speak, and shine. What you've built here is more than fabric and runways. It's a mirror reflecting the resilience, talent, and beauty that too often goes unseen.
This show reminds us that style is not just about how we look, but about how we show up for ourselves. And for each other.
To every woman watching tonight, whether you're on stage or in the crowd, know this: you are allowed to be seen. You are allowed to take up space. You are allowed to own your voice, your story, and your power.
And to anyone who's ever felt overlooked, silenced, or underestimated, please, don't stop writing your story. Even if your hands shake. Even if the world isn't ready. Tell it anyway. The right people will listen.
Thank you, Maistown, for giving me a chance. Thank you for letting this quiet girl from the shadows speak. This is not the end, it's only the first chapter."
She smiles, a little teary-eyed but glowing, as the audience erupts into applause.
My head held high, I walked down the runway, taking credit for my words, my courage, and every piece of myself that had once been too afraid to be seen. So this is how it feels… to be fulfilled. To be loved by people, not for the mask I wore, but for who I truly was.
Applause still rang in my ears, but it was the warmth in my chest that overwhelmed me most. I couldn't stop smiling. It felt like my face might pop at any second from the joy stretching across it.
At the edge of the stage, a hand reached out to help me down the stairs.
Without thinking, I took it.
It was warm, steady, and sure.
Only when I looked up to thank the kind stranger did my heart skip. It was him.
Charles.
He stood there, beautifully real, dressed in black with that same composed elegance he wore the first time we met. The soft glow of the hall lights hit his skin just right, porcelain smooth, just like I'd told Ava. She didn't believe me then.
But here he was.
"Could you please come with me?" he asked, voice calm and low. "There's something I want to show you."
"Of course," I said before I could stop myself, nodding as I murmured the words again like a secret.
He smiled. just slightly, and my heart fluttered as he laced his fingers gently through mine.
His touch was so careful, so respectful. It wasn't just about holding hands, it was about holding space. Holding safety.
I felt protected.
He led me through the corridor behind the stage, past the noise and celebration, into a quieter part of Dynasty Hall I hadn't seen before. The hallway was dimly lit with sconces flickering against antique wallpaper. Every step away from the crowd felt like stepping deeper into a story I hadn't dared to write yet.
"I know this is strange," he said, glancing over, "but I didn't want to miss the chance to tell you something properly."
My breath caught.
We reached a door at the end of the hallway, tall, old, and carved with vines. He pushed it open slowly.
It was a small private gallery, hidden away, with high ceilings and lanterns that cast golden light over the room. The centerpiece: a single painting of a girl standing alone at the edge of a forest, surrounded by shadows, but bathed in soft morning light.
"It reminded me of you," he said, watching me take it in. "The first day I saw you. You had sadness in your eyes, but not defeat. You were… waiting to bloom."
I turned toward him, stunned.
"Charles…"
"You lit up the stage tonight, Melody," he whispered, voice thick with emotion. "I knew you would. And when you read those words… I've never felt something like that before. You made people feel seen. You made me feel seen."
Silence stretched between us, soft and charged.
"I know we're from different worlds," he continued. "I know you've had to hide, to be quiet. But I want to know you, all of you. If you'd let me."
The room faded around us.
It was just me, him, and a question suspended in the air.
I didn't answer right away. I didn't need to.
Because when I stepped closer and leaned my head gently against his chest, the way he wrapped his arms around me said everything.
And for the first time, I let myself believe it:
Maybe love wasn't something that needed to be chased or earned.
Maybe it was something that simply found you, when you finally stepped into the light.