The boutique didn't look like a store.
It looked like a museum.
Soft white lighting. Polished floors that reflected the crystal chandeliers above. No loud music, no racks crammed with hangers. Everything was curated. Presented. Revered.
Gia stepped inside behind Valentina, her sandals silent against the marble floor. A tall woman in all black greeted them with a nod, not a word.
Valentina turned to her with a smooth smile. "We're just browsing. For now."
Gia's stomach clenched at the phrase.
For now.
She already felt like she was walking on the edge of a glass world, afraid one wrong step would shatter it all.
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They moved through sections labeled with names Gia had only seen on perfume bottles behind thick department store counters. Nothing had a price tag. That alone made her nervous.
Valentina handed her a silky cream blouse. "Try this."
Gia ran her fingers over the fabric — it felt like water. She checked the inside for a price. There was none.
"I don't think this is... me," she said gently.
Valentina tilted her head. "You don't know until you see it on you."
Gia gave a tight smile. "I can't afford anything here."
Valentina's expression didn't change. "I didn't ask you to buy anything."
Gia hesitated. "I'm not really comfortable with people paying for me."
Valentina stepped closer, voice low and reassuring. "Then don't think of it as payment. Think of it as... investment. In appearances."
Gia blinked. "Appearances?"
"In this world," Valentina said gently, "what you wear tells people how to treat you. You're already under a microscope. Might as well look expensive while being dissected."
The honesty made Gia pause.
Valentina didn't say it like an insult. She said it like advice.
Advice she'd probably followed her whole life.
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Gia tried on the blouse in a private dressing suite with tall mirrors and soft lights. She looked at herself, unsure.
The fabric hugged her in the right places. The color softened her. For the first time, she looked like someone who belonged in this world.
And that terrified her.
Because it wasn't her.
Not really.
Still, when she stepped out, Valentina smiled like a proud sister. "See? Told you."
Gia turned toward the mirror again.
She didn't know this version of herself.
But she wasn't sure she hated her either.
-------------------------------------------------
They visited two more shops — one for heels, another for accessories — and by the end of it, Gia was clutching three boutique bags with gold rope handles and names she couldn't pronounce.
They sat in a quiet café after, sipping chilled drinks, soft jazz in the background.
Valentina stirred her iced espresso with a gold straw. "You don't have to change, Gia. Not at your core. But the packaging? That can help you survive."
Gia nodded slowly. "I get it."
Valentina smiled, but her eyes lingered on her thoughtfully — like she was still deciding what, exactly, Gia was.
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Later that evening, back in her hotel room, Gia laid the new clothes out on the bed.
They didn't smell like home.
But they didn't smell like fear either.
Just… transition.
And for now, she could live with that.