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She twirled, checking out her dress with excitement. Her boots made a sound around, drawing attention.
I reached out, "Do you like it?" I asked, deciding to leave as soon as possible. I can't let those eyes on her. "So much, it's beautiful, isn't it?" She responded, staring at herself in the mirror. "Okay, you'll wear it tomorrow." She immediately looked at me, puzzled. "Why? Don't you like it?" I asked to clarify.
Breaking eye contact, she searched for a price tag, grabbed it, and glanced at me. "It's not too beautiful," she smiled, walking to the changing room. "Miss Oberoi, what happened?" I inquired, following her. "Nothing-"
"You were saying it's beautiful, so why-"
"I can't buy it," she asserted, turning to me. "But why? It's beautiful; you should-"
"I can't afford it," she cut off my words. "But I'm paying the bill," I explained, stepping forward. She doesn't have to worry about anything, as long as I'm with her. "150 pounds," she reminded me of the price, glancing at my face. I sighed. "It's okay."
"This may be okay for you, but I can't afford it; actually, I don't want to waste my money on this dress; it's not beautiful either. I'm going to change it," she hyped, lowering her gaze. I couldn't bear to see her like this.
She likes the dress and loves it. She loves the dress but steps back because it's a waste of money. Does she even know I can't stop admiring her in this black short dress?
I gazed at the people around us gossiping and glancing at her. The famous businessman was there. I know him professionally; he was discussing her. When she mentioned the price, her voice echoed loud enough for everyone to hear effortlessly.
"You won't change into something else," I instructed, "And why?" She interrogated. "You like it, and you'll keep wearing it; I'll pay," I told.
"Rudransh sir, I told you-"
"Miss Oberoi, don't argue," I held her hand and took her to another hall. "What are you doing? I told you something. Sir, you can't force me," she yanked my hand when we reached there.
I glared and sighed. "I can; can't you see you're not alone?" I reminded her, holding her hand again as she tried to leave. "I don't care about people; if I can't afford this, I can't, and I'm not ashamed," she explained, struggling to escape my grip on her wrist.
Ignoring her protests, I guided her to a collection of white gowns. After inspecting every dress there, I selected one that would suit her well. Not too heavy for the event but not too light either. She would look stunning in it.
I took the dress to the counter, and after paying the bill, we were walking out. I was still holding her wrist, and she was still trying to free my grip.
"Sir, don't show off your money in front of me; I won't wear this; I don't want it. I know you're rich; you don't have to prove it to me. Sir, I'm saying something; you can't attract me with your money; I'm nothing to you, so please stop."
