3

ALYONA

“Will you be my girlfriend?” Shawn’s words hung in the air, his eyes shining with hope. My heart pounded, and my stomach twisted.

“Shawn, I’ve never seen this side of you. I don’t love you,” I said, stepping back.

“Please, just give me a chance,” he pleaded.

I turned to run, but my legs wouldn’t move. It felt like they were glued to the ground. Panic surged through me as his face got closer—way too close. He was puckering his lips like he was about to kiss me.

My eyes searched desperately for something—anything—to stop him. That’s when I saw a stick lying near my feet. I bent to grab it, ready to swing, but the moment my fingers touched it, it melted into an ice cream cone.

What the hell?

“Kiss me, Alyona,” he whispered. None of it made sense. I was trapped in some weird, twisted moment. Then I heard it—clear and sharp.

“Alyona Marshall!” I turned in every direction, trying to find the voice shouting my name.

“Alyona! Don’t make me come up there!” my mother’s voice echoed from far below. My eyes shot open. I sat up in bed, the blanket tangled around my legs, heart racing, breath shaky. I was back in my room.

From downstairs, Mom called again, “Alyona, breakfast’s ready!”

I rubbed my face, still shaken. The dream felt too real.

But why had I been dreaming about Shawn?

I hadn’t seen or thought about him in months. Back in school, he used to follow me around like a lost puppy—always trying to get close, always hoping I’d say yes. My clingy senior. The one I could never stand.

So why now? Why was he suddenly showing up in my dreams?

I let out a long sigh. This morning was already off—and I hadn’t even gotten out of bed yet.

“Alyona, if I have to call your name again—”

“Ahh… coming, Mom!” I shouted back, dragging myself out of bed.

I tossed the blanket aside, still stuck on that ridiculous dream—and the face of my clingy ex-senior. Ugh. Shawn. Of all people.

I caught my reflection in the mirror and squinted. “Am I seriously this desperate to meet Mr. Right?”

Leaning in, I frowned at the tiny whiteheads on my nose. Fantastic. Just what I needed this morning—an identity crisis and bad skin.

I shook my head, trying to snap out of it. If I didn’t hurry, Mom would start comparing me to my elder sister again—her golden child who always woke up early, always did everything perfectly. I was not in the mood for that speech. Not again.

I rushed into the bathroom and jumped into the shower, hoping the warm water would wash away the last traces of Shawn.

Mr. Right and Shawn should never be mentioned in the same sentence.

Once I’d scrubbed, cleansed, and practically drowned myself in body wash, I stepped out in my oversized, goofy towel.

I paused in front of the mirror, giving my nose one last check.

Clean, pointy, and acceptable.

The chilly weather was no joke today. I pulled on my jeans and slipped into a tank top, already hearing my mom’s irritated voice float up the stairs. Panicking a little, I slapped on some quick makeup—just enough to not look like a zombie—and rushed downstairs.

Mom stood in the kitchen, purse in hand, coat already on, tapping her foot. One look at her and I knew—she was mad, really mad.

In our house, there was one unbreakable rule: no one leaves without having breakfast together. I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist. “Mom, I love you,” I said, leaning into my usual charm.

She turned her head slightly, still glaring. “Al, you know we eat together. You’re always the one running late.”

“I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t sleep well last night,” I murmured.

That softened her. She turned fully to face me, concerned replacing the frustration. “What happened? Are you okay, baby?”

I nodded. “Yeah. It’s just the cold. I think the room heater’s acting weird.”

Her brows drew together. “Then why didn’t you come to my room?”

I shrugged. “Didn’t want to disturb you.”

Without another word, Mom picked up the phone.

 “I’ll call the society office. They’ll send someone—”

“Wait, Mom! I’ll do it.” I quickly took the phone from her hand. “You’re already running late. Let’s eat first.” I walked over to the table and began setting it. She sighed, shaking her head, but I caught a faint smile tugging at her lips. Small wins count—especially when your morning starts with clingy admirers.

We were mid-conversation and halfway through breakfast when a knock sounded at the door.

“Go. Your gang is here,” Mom muttered, rolling her eyes, though the smile still lingered. I hurried over and opened the door to find Olivia and Ivy bursting in with their usual energy. They hugged Mom like they owned the place.

“Let’s sit. We’ll have breakfast together,” Mom offered warmly, handing them a plate. But they both plopped down on the living room couch.

“Thank you, Aunty. We’ll wait for you guys to finish,” Olivia replied sweetly.

Something was definitely up. These two never showed up this early unless there was a plan brewing. I stuffed the rest of my toast into my mouth and hurried through the last few bites of cereal, barely chewing, just to speed things along.

From the way Olivia kept fidgeting and Ivy kept glancing between her and Mom, I knew they were about to pitch something that needed permission.

And the moment Mom finished her last bite, they jumped up to help her clear the table. Suspicious, very suspicious.

Within minutes, everything was cleaned up, and we stood there, tension hanging thick in the air. I raised an eyebrow as Olivia stepped forward, hiding something behind her back.

“We need your permission to take Alyona to the masquerade ball,” she announced, dramatically whipping out a pair of shiny black and gold passes like they were golden tickets to Willy Wonka’s factory.

“Masquerade ball?” Mom repeated, clearly surprised.

“Yeah! And before you say no, hear me out!” Olivia rushed out in one breath. “It’s free entry, I have three passes, and my company is organizing it to celebrate their fifth anniversary.”

She looked breathless like she’d rehearsed that sentence a hundred times. Mom glanced at me and gave a soft smile. She probably caught the sparkle in my eyes—no matter how casual I tried to act. She knew me too well.

“Dress? I’m not paying for anything,” she said, still trying to sound serious.

“Don’t worry. We’ll manage everything!” Ivy jumped in, clearly waiting for that exact moment.

Mom looked between the three of us for a second, then gave a small nod. “Okay. Go have fun.” That was it—we got the green light.

I wanted to squeal but held it in. Mom didn’t say much, but I knew she liked seeing me happy—especially with Olivia and Ivy around. She trusted them. Sometimes, it’s not the grand gestures that stay with us forever—it’s small, silly moments like this. The kind you don’t even realize are becoming your favorite memories.

Olivia and Ivy grabbed my hands and dragged me straight into my room, all giggles and excitement.

“I’m leaving now, Al!” Mom called from the hallway.

I rushed downstairs and threw my arms around her. “Thank you, Mom... for everything you’ve done for Cassie and me.”

She didn’t answer right away. A mother always knows what’s going on—even when you don’t say a word.

“And thank you for letting me go with my friends,” I added, holding her tighter. She gave a soft laugh and patted my back. “Okay, okay… There’s an envelope under my bed. You can use it for shopping.”

I pulled back and shook my head. “No, Mom. I don’t want money. I can manage on my own.” She touched my cheek, her eyes full of love. “I know you can. You’ve grown up so fast... but for me, you’ll always be that little girl who wanted everything done by her mom.”

She kissed my cheek and grabbed her coat from the hanger.

“Mom,” I said gently as she turned to leave.

She paused, smiling. “Go pick a beautiful dress for yourself. Who knows? Maybe you’ll find your Mr. Right at that masquerade ball.”

With a playful wink, she walked out the door.

I stood there for a moment, heart full, then ran upstairs—only to stop cold in the doorway. My bed looked like a fashion battlefield. Clothes were flying everywhere. Tops, skirts, scarves, even my lucky boots were tossed aside like casualties.

“Guys! What are you doing?” I gasped.

“We’re trying to find something decent to wear!” Olivia groaned, poking her head out from under a pile of clothes.

I raised an eyebrow, half-laughing at the chaos. “So... how are we doing this?” But the energy shifted. The room quieted. The excitement dimmed as the truth crept in: we didn’t have the kind of outfits—or money—for something as fancy as a masquerade ball.

“I think... we should just forget it,” Ivy said softly, her frown tugging at something inside me.

Then Olivia suddenly jumped up, eyes wide, glowing like she’d discovered fire. “Guys!” she shouted, voice shaking with excitement. “I have an idea!”