Elena’s POV

5:12 p.m.

The numbers stared up at me from the phone screen, cold and unforgiving. Less than fifty minutes. The soft clothes I had put on after the shower suddenly felt wrong, too casual, too vulnerable. I pushed away from the door and moved before the nerves could settle fully into my bones.

The black dress came out of the bag first.

I had packed it without overthinking, the way you pack something you might need and hope you won’t. Now it lay across the bed like a decision waiting to be made. Sleek. Long-sleeved. The fabric was soft but structured, the kind that followed the body without...