The White Dress ✅

The door cut an innocent figure.

It was painted white, made of heavy oak with a detailed carved design and in the pleasant, comfortable neighbourhood, it seemed to radiate the charm and warmth of the couple who resided within. The area was well-known amongst young families, situated nicely in walking distance of good schools and local amenities and the are was highly sought after because of it.

So, if one were present at noon on that Saturday, they might wonder why the girl standing in front of number 32 was so nervous. It was clear for anyone to see that she was more than a little hesitant to knock, fidgeting with her curls and tugging at the nonexistent creases in her white cotton dress with clenched, pale hands.

And, if one had allowed their curiosity to take them further, they might have recognised the girl's face and struck up a conversation. None did, though, for it was a beautiful summer's day and those who were out were at the local park and others, who had chosen to stay in their back gardens, were taking advantage of the weather and indulging in a summer barbeque.

So the girl was alone as she bit her lip, face torn in indecision but slowly, ever so slowly, she raised a small hand and rapped on the hard wood of the door. It wasn't a loud sound, her knocks still hesitant but, to her, it sounded like gunshots in the silence.

There was a commotion behind the door almost immediately, not allowing her to dwell in her thoughts, and she heard the sound of dogs barking eagerly, paws scratching at the other side.. She smiled, pleased they remembered her.

A woman's gentle voice hushed the dogs and the door opened, a beautiful woman stepping out with a toddler balanced at her hip. She had gentle eyes, setting the young girl at ease, and kindly asked which charity she would be donating to, purse already in hand. She seemed nice, the kind of girl boys married and settled down with, the kind that the girl had never been able to be.

She stifled the thought, shaking her head and looking down at her flats before saying she wasn't looking for donations but, rather, had business with the woman's husband. She had recognised the toddler's sparkling blue eyes-seen them soft and seen them cold, accompanied by the sharp whipcrack of anger in his voice the last time they met-and it hadn't taken much for her to make the connection. This was his son, this was his family.

When the woman went to find him, the girl played with the dogs who had missed her so much. There was Missy, the little cocker spaniel who she'd known since she first bowled her over in the park, and Cupid, the Dalmatian, who had a nose for food like nobody's business. They barked and jumped up excitedly, knocking the girl over and licking at her face with their warm, wet tongues. She laughed, bringing her hands up to push at them lightly, but ultimately unable to truly begrudge them their affection.

The moment couldn't last, though.

A man, still young and in his twenties, came to the door, ordering the dogs off, voice tinged with a humour that disappeared as soon as he realised who had chosen to grace his door. The laughter and the smile weren't for her and they were replaced by hard expression as he demanded harshly what the girl wanted of him. Hadn't she taken enough?

She got up off of the floor, wiping the dirt off the back of her dress, and took her time with phrasing the words she wanted to say, words that she needed to say. And she drew a blank. She'd planned a speech that would explain everything but just seeing him, looking so righteously angry, told her that maybe she shouldn't have come. Maybe she shouldn't tell him.

So she smiled, not letting him see how much she was hurting, and recounted to him her first audition in front of a talent scout and how much she'd impressed him and his bosses, securing her first acting job. It was the first step to her dream and she just wanted him to know she was sorry for the pain she had caused him.