Addiction| 18+

14| Gala

Hayley

Sunlight streamed through the curtains, catching the dark fabric of the dress I had chosen for the dance. It was beautiful—flowing, simple, elegant—but it did nothing to calm the knot in my stomach.

I wasn't ready. Not for the public, not for the attention, not for standing beside Grey as a "wife." And certainly not for the idea of sleeping in the same bed with another man, something that still made my chest tighten and my throat dry. Memories I had tried to bury—the fear, the trembling, the control my father had once exerted—were whispering at me again, sharp and cold.

A soft knock came at the door.

"Good morning, Miss Hayley," said Ms. Green's calm voice. "We'll help you get ready. Hair, makeup, the dress... everything."

I exhaled slowly, trying to steady my hands. Relief mingled with anxiety. I wasn't alone, but I also didn't want too many eyes on me.

A few minutes later, two other house staff appeared quietly—one with a small bag of accessories, the other with shoes and slippers. They moved around me like a careful cloud, speaking softly, offering items, making adjustments, but never pressing, never commenting on my nervous energy.

Ms. Green handled my hair with practiced efficiency. She asked me gentle questions—"Do you want curls or straight?"—and gave me room to answer. The other staff helped with the dress and shoes, making sure everything fit properly.

I was grateful. Grateful for their presence, for their hands moving around me in routine motions that kept me from spiraling. And yet... the thought of Grey being in the next room, knowing he would eventually see me like this, made my stomach twist.

I reminded myself to breathe. To focus on the task at hand. One step at a time. The ballroom, the guests, the attention—they were all ahead, but this—this preparation—was something I could manage with help.

⸻

By the time I was fully dressed, my nerves had tightened into a ball in my stomach. I clutched my clutch like a lifeline as I followed Ms. Green and the staff to the car. Grey was already there, quietly waiting in the driver's seat. He didn't comment on my appearance, didn't offer advice, didn't make me feel like I had to impress him.

The drive was long in silence. I stared out the window, my stomach twisting at every glance of passing strangers. I tried to control my breathing, but my chest felt tight.

"You're nervous," Grey said finally, calm, eyes on the road.

I nodded, words failing me.

"You don't have to talk," he added quietly. "Just... breathe."

I nodded again, taking shallow breaths, trying to convince myself that this would be okay. That I could survive this night.

⸻

We arrived, and the music drifted out into the night. The building gleamed under the lights, elegant and intimidating all at once. I swallowed hard, gripping my clutch. My legs felt heavy, my chest tight.

Ms. Green and the staff helped me out of the car, adjusted my dress slightly, and offered soft words of encouragement. "You look beautiful," Ms. Green said. "Just walk beside him, and everything will be fine."

I nodded, trying to force myself to stand tall.

Grey stepped beside me as we approached the doors. He didn't hold my hand, didn't touch me except to open the door, but his calm presence was a buffer against the crowd. He made me feel... contained, like a wall between me and the prying eyes of the guests.