Sweet For You, Ruthless For Others

"Walking again like an outcast, dear sister?" Selena cooed, her tone sugary and sharp. 

Then, with the casual cruelty only Selena could manage, she stuck her tongue out at Hermia like a petulant child mocking her prey.

Hermia froze for a moment, swallowing down the lump forming in her throat. A sharp sting burned at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let it fall. 

Not now. Not for her.

She blinked rapidly, fixing her gaze on the gravel beneath her feet as the car rolled past, the engine's hum fading into the distance. 

The silence that followed was deafening, save for the sound of her own footsteps.

Hermia's legs carried her down the road, though every step felt heavier than the last. 

The twenty-minute walk to the gate stretched endlessly, her mind replaying Selena's mocking tone over and over again.

Finally, she reached the gate, where her Uber driver waited with a face that practically radiated irritation. 

He leaned against his car, arms crossed, and shot her an exasperated look the moment she appeared.

"You know I've been waiting, right?" he huffed, his voice tinged with impatience.

"I'm so sorry," Hermia said quickly, her voice soft but sincere. "Thank you for waiting. I couldn't come sooner."

The driver muttered something under his breath but waved her into the car. She slipped into the backseat, closing the door with trembling hands. 

As the car pulled away, Hermia leaned her head back against the seat and stared out the window, watching the estate lights fade into the distance.

Her thoughts swirled. The sting from Selena's actions hadn't left, but beneath the pain, a spark of determination flickered.

Tonight isn't about Selena, she told herself firmly. 

This is about me. About taking back what's mine. Showing that I deserve as much as Selena does.

She gave the driver the address of the boutique and inhaled deeply. The fight wasn't over—not even close. 

But tonight, Hermia was done being a victim. 

If she was going for a kill then she needed a killer dress.

The car glided to a stop in front of the grand mall, its polished exterior gleaming under the sprawling cascade of lights. 

Hermia stepped out, clutching her bag, and offered the Uber driver a quiet, "Thank you." The air was cool but carried the faint hum of life and chatter spilling out from the mall. 

She tilted her head back, taking a deep breath to steel herself.

The mall was massive, its glass facade towering high above her with neon signs advertising high-end brands, glowing against the dark sky. 

People streamed in and out of the entrance like a river—some laughing, some with hurried steps, some chatting over phone calls.

It's just a mall, Hermia, not a battlefield, she thought, trying to calm her pounding heart. Still, the scale of the place was intimidating.

Pushing her nerves aside, she strode through the wide glass doors into the mall. Immediately, a wave of bright lights and bustling energy greeted her. 

The air-conditioned space was a far cry from the estate—cool, lively, and filled with the faint smells of freshly brewed coffee and designer perfumes. 

The floors gleamed beneath her feet, and polished escalators snaked up to the higher levels, carrying streams of well-dressed shoppers.

Hermia's steps faltered as she took it all in. The sheer size of the place overwhelmed her. People brushed past her, laughing and chatting, their arms laden with shopping bags. 

Everything seemed foreign. She didn't belong here.

Why didn't I bring someone? she thought. Oh, right. I don't have anyone.

The realization stung. She blinked the thought away and focused on her task: find the clothing store.

Hermia wandered aimlessly at first, her eyes scanning the signs for familiar names. The buzz of the crowd made her feel even smaller. 

With every passing moment, her discomfort grew.

Finally, she decided to ask for help. She spotted a middle-aged woman near a directory map and approached her quickly. "Excuse me," Hermia began softly, "do you know where the luxury—"

The woman turned abruptly, her face twisting into suspicion. "I don't have anything to give you!" she snapped, clutching her bag as if Hermia were trying to rob her.

Hermia froze, stunned by the outburst. "I wasn't asking for—"

But the woman was already walking away briskly, muttering under her breath.

Hermia stood rooted for a moment, heat rushing to her cheeks. 

She swallowed hard, feeling the sting of humiliation. It wasn't the first time she'd been misjudged, but it never got easier.

Brushing it off, she resumed her search. She kept her head low, hoping to avoid further scrutiny. 

Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that people were noticing her—alone, wandering, and obviously out of place.

"Hey!"

The voice was bright and cheerful, cutting through the noise. Hermia glanced around, unsure if it was directed at her. Still, instinct made her look.

A petite girl with soft, shoulder-length hair—somewhere between brown and dark red—was rushing toward her. 

She had a radiant smile that seemed almost out of place in the busy, impersonal mall.

Hermia blinked in confusion, frowning slightly. Me? Is she talking to me?

"Hey, pretty miss!" the girl chirped, stopping in front of her. Her tone was warm, almost flirty, and her grin was contagious.

Hermia blushed, her lips parting in surprise. "H-Hi cute miss," she let out, her voice barely above a whisper.

The girl squealed, clapping her hands together. "Oh my god! I love you already. You totally match my vibe!"

"I… I do?" Hermia asked, still unsure what was happening.

"Yes! We're going to be best friends, I just know it," the girl declared dramatically, tossing her hair with flair.

Hermia blinked, overwhelmed. Best friends? Just like that?

The girl's energy was infectious, though. She couldn't help but smile, her nerves melting slightly. "I'm Hermia," she introduced herself hesitantly.

"I'm Jasmine!" the girl replied, as if her name alone was an event. Then, pinning Hermia with an intense gaze, she asked, "Do you have a best friend?"