𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 , ᶻᵃʸⁿ ᵐᵃˡⁱᵏ

lost & found

He didn't say anything at first, just shifted forward to speak to the driver. "We'll need to make a stop at the tailor first."

I sighed quietly. Of course. I'd forgotten about the fitting. I was about to be wrapped up in fabric and pinned into a dress like some kind of mannequin, all so I could smile and act like I hadn't been up half the night, working and worrying about everything.

Liam glanced back at me, his expression unreadable. "It won't take long."

I tried to smile. "I'm used to it by now." I wasn't sure who I was trying to convince.

His brow furrowed slightly. "You know, Serena, you don't always have to do this."

I looked out the window, watching the city blur by as the car moved through traffic. "I know."

But I didn't stop. I couldn't. Not yet.

Liam's voice interrupted my spiraling thoughts, cold and distant. "Driver, we need to stop at the tailor first."

There it was. The icy detachment I'd come to expect from him. No warmth, no small talk, just instructions. I glanced up, watching as the driver nodded through the rearview mirror, altering the route.

Liam didn't look back at me, but his presence filled the space between us—heavy, silent. He hadn't been much of a conversationalist lately, but then again, that wasn't his job. He wasn't there to chat. He was there to protect me, and that was all.

When we arrived at the tailor, Liam stepped out first, waiting for me to follow. His movements were mechanical, controlled, like everything he did was calculated. I didn't even have time to reach for the door before he was there, opening it for me. No words, just the same cold stare.

Inside, the shop smelled of fresh fabric and lavender. The tailor greeted us warmly, but Liam's mood didn't shift. He stood a few paces behind me as I was led toward the fitting room, his eyes scanning the space, always on guard, but distant.

As I slipped into the first dress, the memory of my old bodyguard, Jeremy, flashed in my mind. Jeremy had always made these fittings more bearable, cracking jokes, lightening the mood. He'd been so much more than just a shadow in the background. He used to laugh, tease me about how long I took to decide on a dress, even suggest ridiculous ones just to make me laugh. It wasn't just about protection with him—it felt like he cared.

Liam, though? He was the opposite. All business, all the time. Watching but never truly seeing me.

I stepped out of the fitting room, smoothing down the dress. Liam's eyes flickered over me, but his expression remained the same—cold, detached. Not a single comment, not even a nod. I almost missed Jeremy's playful smirks, the way he'd make the world seem less heavy, less... lonely.

But those days were gone. Now, I was left with silence.

I stepped off the small pedestal, brushing away the thoughts that threatened to cloud my focus. The dress was elegant, hugging my curves just right, and I decided to keep it long.

"Can you adjust the neckline?" I asked the tailor, tilting my head slightly as I pointed to my collarbone, my fingers brushing against the fabric. "I feel like it could be a bit lower."

"Of course!" she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "And what about the sleeves? Would you like them to be a bit more fitted?"

I nodded, glancing at myself in the mirror again, smoothing my hands down the sides of the dress. "Yes, that could work. I want it to feel both comfortable and classy."

"Great choice! And the length is already perfect—just the right amount of drama for the evening."

As she scribbled notes on her pad, I caught Liam's gaze from the corner of my eye. He leaned against the door, arms crossed, exuding an air of cool detachment. I brushed it off. This wasn't about him.