amaotonovel Chapter 262: Yellow dress
Chapter 262: Yellow dress
Chapter 262
KATYA POV
When I stepped out of the bathroom, the first thing I noticed was the quiet.
Not the empty kind. Not the suffocating kind that made my chest ache. This quiet felt... settled. Like the room itself was holding its breath with me.
The steam clung to my skin, warm and heavy, my hair damp and loose down my back, droplets still sliding slowly along my shoulders.
The faint scent of soap wrapped around me like a second layer, clean and unfamiliar, as if I’d washed away more than just dirt.
I paused without meaning to, one hand still resting on the doorframe, my fingers curling lightly into the wood as if I needed something solid to ground me.
The room felt different again. Warmer somehow. Softer. Lived in.
Not like a place I was borrowing. Not like a space I was trespassing in. For the briefest moment, it felt like a place I was allowed to exist in.
Chiara was already there. She sat cross-legged on the bed, completely at ease, like she’d been waiting exactly as long as she’d meant to.
Her back rested against the headboard, one knee bouncing slightly as if she had too much energy for stillness, fingers busy with something in her lap before she looked up.
Clothes.
My eyes dropped to the bed, and without realizing it, my steps slowed.
Laid out carefully across the dark sheets were outfits—more than one. Not tossed. Not stacked carelessly. Folded neatly, spaced like choices instead of instructions. Like options instead of expectations.
Soft fabrics. Light colors.
A dress. A pair of jeans that didn’t look stiff or unforgiving. A loose blouse that looked like it wouldn’t cling or judge.
Even underthings, arranged with a kind of quiet thoughtfulness that made my chest tighten unexpectedly, my throat closing for reasons I didn’t immediately understand.
"Oh," I said, the sound barely more than air, as if speaking too loudly might disturb something fragile.
Chiara looked up, her face lighting instantly. "You’re done!" Her gaze swept over me—not critically, not appraising—just a quick check, like she was making sure I was okay.
Like she cared whether I was comfortable, not how I looked.
"See? Didn’t drown. I knew it." I huffed out a quiet breath, tugging the towel a little closer around myself, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt. "You... didn’t waste any time." I gestured to the bed.
She grinned, unapologetic. "Time is overrated."
My eyes drifted back to the clothes. They didn’t look like mine. I didn’t remember owning any of these clothes.
"Chiara, what is all this?" I asked softly, my voice careful, like I was afraid the answer might disappear if I spoke too loud.
She tilted her head, studying my face for a moment before answering simply. "Clothes."
That was it. No explanation. No justification.
"You don’t have to wear any of them if you don’t want to," she added immediately, as if sensing the hesitation tightening in my chest.
I took a small step closer, drawn despite myself. The fabrics looked gentle. Forgiving. Nothing sharp. Nothing that screamed look at me or be something you’re not.
Still, doubt crept in quietly, "They’re... nice."
Her smile softened, losing its playful edge. "Fuck yeah. They are."
I flinched at her curse out of instinct, my shoulders tensing before I could stop it. She noticed and didn’t comment. That, somehow, mattered more than an apology.
I hesitated before asking the question that had been hovering in my mind since I stepped out of the bathroom. "Are we... going somewhere?"
Chiara’s eyes sparkled just a little, like she was holding onto a secret but wasn’t in a rush to reveal it. "Eventually."
Eventually.
The word echoed in my chest and I swallowed. "But if I don’t want to?"
"Then we stay in," she said immediately, without missing a beat. No pressure. No disappointment. No second thought. "Eat too much breakfast. Judge people from a distance. Be legends."
That earned a real, startled laugh from me before I could stop it—soft, surprised, like it didn’t quite belong to me yet. The sound seemed to hang in the air between us.
She took it as a victory. "There it is."
I stepped closer to the bed now, my fingers hovering over the edge of one of the folded tops. I didn’t touch it yet. Just looked. Let myself imagine what it would feel like to choose without fear.
Chiara pushed herself off the bed and stood, deliberately giving me space again. "I picked up all the clothes that would be suitable for today," she said lightly. "You can choose whichever you are comfortable in."
I nodded, though my attention had already drifted back to the bed, and that was when I saw it.
The yellow dress sat slightly apart from the others, folded neatly, its color soft rather than loud. Not bright. Not demanding. Just... warm.
Like sunlight that didn’t burn. My breath caught before I understood why.
Yellow.
My hand moved before my mind could stop it, fingers brushing the fabric lightly. It was smooth beneath my touch, cool and real and suddenly, I wasn’t standing in Chiara’s room anymore.
I saw Nonna’s hands instead, holding out a dress not unlike this one. I remembered the way she’d smiled that day, proud and gentle, like she was offering me something precious rather than something simple.
You deserve something beautiful, her voice echoed in my head.
My chest tightened painfully.
The memory twisted before I could hold onto it. Marina’s cruel laughter sliced through it, echoing too loud, too vivid.
I remembered kneeling there, frozen, as yellow split apart beneath my hands. Fabric tearing. Color destroyed. Shredded. Ruined.
The nightmare memory rose fast and uninvited, wrapping around my throat, squeezing until it was hard to breathe.
My fingers curled instinctively into the dress now, clutching it as if holding it together might undo what had been broken before.
A tear slipped free before I realized what was happening.It landed on the fabric.
I froze.
Shock hit harder than the memory itself. I hadn’t felt it coming. I hadn’t allowed it. I quickly lifted my hand, brushing at my cheek, wiping the tear away like it had betrayed me.
Don’t. Not now.
"Hey," Chiara’s voice cut in gently. "Katya?"
I stiffened. She had turned back around, her brows drawn together, concern written openly across her face. Not pity. Not judgment. Just worry.
"Are you alright?"
"I’m fine," I said too quickly, keeping my gaze fixed on the bed, on the dress, anywhere but her eyes. If I looked at her, I might break in a way I couldn’t put back together.
My fingers smoothed the fabric again, slower this time, grounding myself in the present. "I just... thought of something. That’s all."
Chiara didn’t push.
She stepped closer but stopped short, her presence careful, respectful. "You wanna talk about it?"
I shook my head once. "No."
Silence stretched between us but it wasn’t heavy. It didn’t press or accuse. Chiara let it exist, and in doing so, made it bearable.
I took a breath, steadier this time, deeper, and lifted the yellow dress fully from the bed. The color looked different in my hands—less fragile than I remembered. Less breakable. Stronger.
It was shorter than I expected. This dress might not go past my mid thighs.
Fear flickered but it didn’t win. "I want this one," I said anyway. Chiara blinked, then smiled.
"The yellow?"
"Yes." My fingers tightened around it, not in panic this time, but in resolve. "I want to wear this yellow dress."
Her smile grew then, proud and soft all at once, like she understood something she didn’t need explained. "Good choice."
She turned away again without another word, giving me privacy, giving me trust.
I stood there for a moment longer, holding the dress against my chest, feeling its weight, its warmth.
The memory still lingered but it didn’t own me.
Not today.
Not ever again.
††
We gonna have so much fun in Italy lol.