♡𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒇𝒊𝒂 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒑𝒍𝒆♡

Crossing Destinies

Y/N's POV

The digital hum of the office was interrupted by the sharp, persistent vibration of a phone against the mahogany desk. I reached for it, my thumb smudging the screen with a light dusting of graphite from the files.

(On text)

Mom:
Are you ready?

Me:
Just about to change.

Mom:
What’s the choice for tonight?

Me:
Clothes.
Generally the standard for public outings. 🙄

Mom:
Aish, YN-ah... Don't play with me.

Me:
Fine, fine. Black cardigan and tailored trousers. Simple.

Mom:
DON’T YOU DARE WEAR BLACK AGAIN!! 😤

Me:
But Why? It's a classic.

Mom:
Because I said so. I’ve left a box in your closet. You will wear what is inside that box and nothing else. That is final, Lee Y/N.

Me:

Mom...

Mom:
Don’t 'Mom' me. Go. Get changed. Be on time—I’ve already sent the location to your driver.

Me:
Fine...

Mom:
That’s my girl. See you soon.

Me:
Bye.

(Text ended)

Y/N's POV

I tossed the phone onto the bed and retreated to the walk-in closet. Resting on the central ottoman was a sleek, white box with a handwritten note taped to the lid: “Don’t Wear Black!!”

I sighed, dragging a hand through my messy hair. I was well aware of my reputation; my wardrobe was a monochromatic fortress, with eighty percent of my collection dedicated to various shades of midnight and coal Black. It was efficient.

I pried the lid off, expecting a nightmare of lace and sequins. My mother lived under the delusion that I looked best in soft, ethereal pastels, whereas I preferred the uncomplicated utility of a t-shirt and trousers.

The fabric inside was cool to the touch—a light, fluid dress that lacked the "complications" I usually despised but carried an air of undeniable elegance.

Y/N: Alright, Mom. You win this round.

I retreated to the bathroom, washing the week of ink and dust from my skin before stepping into the garment.