Forever Could Be Ours

Chapter 24. | Whispering Elegance

HAYLEIGH

"Sweetheart, why so pouty?" The crisp edges of Dad's voice scratch through the speakers, dragging me out of the spiral of my racing thoughts. "The dress looks amazing."

Blinking repeatedly, I shift my gaze from my mirror reflection to see his blurred pixilated lines on the FaceTime call. As if on command, the muscles in my lips tighten. "I'm not pouty."

He shoots me a slight squint. Sitting in a fancy hotel lobby in Singapore, I'd expect a stronger internet connection than given. It looks like he's streaming the call from the deepest part of the ocean. I can barely make out his pine-green cashmere sweater and brown eyes.

"Dad, I'm serious," I cast a second glance at my reflection in the mirror, brushing my hands over the black rayon material. "I'm fine. It's not about the dress."

Nicholas Blakely is many things beyond compare, but inattentive isn't one of them.

I'm often told I'm a true replica of my mom with the same olive skin, hazel eyes, and high cheekbones. But beneath the twin-like appearance hides the many traits Dad has passed on. The unstoppable desire and determination to achieve goals. The wanderlust urge to delve into different cultures and explore every inch of the globe.

But he has also passed on the tendency to pretend everything is alright with a practiced smile when it's the complete opposite. Meaning, he sees right past my act of defense no matter how many times I attempt to convince him otherwise.

"Good," The mimics of his mouth aren't synchronized with the video, but I don't miss a beat of his confident voice. "Because you haven't looked more beautiful, blossom."

I can't help but narrow my eyes, biting back a smile. A real one. It's such a dad thing to say but it works. Every freaking time. I bet it's listed somewhere in some sort of secret fatherhood manual.

"Thank you," I tuck a freshly curled strand of hair behind my ear, glancing back at my full-figure mirror reflection.

The dress is everything I pictured for the formal. It whispers elegance with every feathery movement. The off-the-shoulder neckline frames my collarbone delicately and with a daring left-sided slit, the dress reveals just enough to captivate attention without giving away too much.

"I don't know... The last couple of days have been rough, I guess."

After Will's making amends speech at the parking lot followed by Alexander trying his utter best to convince me not to go, I felt trapped in emotions. I barely had the chance to breathe when midterms started the next day, where my focus was supposed to be.

I almost forgot about Will's formal proposal when he showed up ten minutes before the mathematical midterm, reminding me that he still needed an answer. In a whirlwind of stress and build-up anxiety from mentally preparing myself for the exam, I slipped out a yes before I realized it.

What was even worse about the situation was Alexander was standing right behind us. Listening to every single thing. And he did not look pleased.

I didn't get the chance to speak with him or explain myself as he left quickly after supervising the test with a neutral look on his face.

Dad shifts in his seat, his hand rubbing his cheek with concern. Or that's what I picture behind the pixelated squares. "Was it the exam yesterday? Mom said you were... agitated."

I snicker. Only Lynn Blakely would wrap a hysterical fit of emotions as agitated. She found me facedown on the rugged carpet in the living room with arms and hands sprawled on the floor like I had been run over by a bus.