When a bride walks down the aisle,  she’s supposed to feel like the queen of the world; a princess in her own fairy tale. Her heart should flutter and flip a million times when her eyes fall over her prince charming, and her eyes should swell and storm when she lets go of her father’s arm.

      But what if her father wasn’t there?

      What if she wasn’t sure he was her prince charming?

      I look at the girl in white on the mirror. Her face is lost when I trail my eyes over her. She looks exactly like what she had drawn in her kindergarten art class.

      An off-white lace ball gown cascades exquisitely from her corseted waist, with lavish crystal embroidery framing her bodice. Her short brown locks stop right below her chin, a matching head crown tops it off with a fluid lace veil to the ground.

      She is beautiful.

      She is me.

      My heart is fluttering – I can hardly breathe. My eyes are moist – I can hardly believe myself. But they are all for the wrong reasons, I’m sure.

      One thing is running through my mind: I’m getting married.

      “Sandara, dear.” Mrs. Choi’s firm voice comes from behind the curtain, and I am brought back to reality when I see the two assistants smiling brightly at me. “Do you have it all on already?”

      I take a deep breath and wipe the revolutionary tears harshly, putting on my best smile. “Yes,” I call out, increasing my pitch a little. “Just give me a second.”

      “Take your time, baby,” my mother interjects, and I have to bite down my lips to keep the prickles in my eyes to a minimum.

      Am I doing the right thing? Obviously I am, Oppa is a great person and he loves me. He loves me so much. But I don’t think I love him as much as he does me. My thoughts drift to the man in my dreams again, and I chuckle bitterly.

      Who do I love then? Someone who may or may not exist? A sheer fragment of my imagination?

      Frankly, I don’t know.

      “Shall we draw the curtains, Miss Park?” One of the assistants, a short chubby ball of excitement, rests her joined hands on her chest, her eye shining with adoration. I stiffly nod while the rest of them fix the dress on the pedestal I’m on.

      Slowly, the huge red fabric moves away to the sides, revealing the two mothers seated at two separate ends of a sofa at the very front, their eyes fixated on me.

      Even though our mothers were nearly the same age, they were very different in nature. That may have been one of the reasons they never got along.

      They didn’t even try concealing their dislike towards each other, even after Oppa and I had announced our engagement almost a year ago.

      Seunghyun’s mother was born into a family of successful artists who all excelled in their line of expertise, later becoming a painter herself. Having lived a refined and luxurious life, she carries herself with an air of grace, opinions and power that were inherited to bother her children ever since childhood.

      My mother on the other hand, was orphaned at birth, leaving her to the care of an old nun who took her in almost immediately into a care house. Religion, compromise and silent observation were one of the few virtues my mother had always carried with pride, regardless of her failed marriage and unsupported education.

      “Darling,” My mother’s misty eyes are wide and rounded, a proud smile on her slowly wrinkling face. “You look like a princess.”

      “She looks like a Choi,” Mrs. Choi interjects boldly, and I catch my mother’s eye roll before turning my attention to the flashily dressed woman. Her head was held high, her eyes searching around all over the dress. “It compliments your silhouette, dear. We could work more about that waist though…”

      “She’s not going to change anything,” my mother quietly inputs, her eyes not leaving me. “She looks perfect as she is.”

      The other scoffs. “Coming from the person who said nothing when her daughter decided to chop off her lovely hair,” she scowls and looks pointedly at my mother. I gulp at the mention of that incident and look down at my disappearing feet.

      “She’s a fully grown woman. She can decide for herself.” My mother’s lips form a thin line.

      “Just like how she had decided to stop ballet even though she was-”

      “I don’t like the dress.” I stop her from continuing, shutting them both up. They stare at me: One confused, the other in shock. I continue. “I think I should continue looking for more. But not now. I want to go home.”

      “None sense,” my future mother-in-law stands up hastily, her eyes blazing. “You look majestic in this gown. We are not looking for more.”

      I ball the soft fabric at my sides. “You can get it if you want, but I am not sure I feel comfortable wearing something this flashy. Besides, it’s gotten late and I’m tired.”

      “What-”

      “We understand, darling.” My mother smiles hesitantly at me, her eyes trying to search for mine, but I look at the mannequin behind her instead. “We’ll look for more dresses later.”

      “Are you out of your mind? The wedding is in four months.”

      My mother sighs. “That’s plenty of time.”

      Not waiting to witness another cat fight, I cut in again. “Is oppa still here?”

      Mrs. Choi gives my mother a glare before smiling back at me, her lips twitching. “No, dear. He left an hour or so ago. He told me to drop you off at home.”

      “I’m taking my own daughter home-”

      “No need,” I bite my lower lip, “I’ll go by myself.”

      “At night? All by yourself, when you have a perfect ride waiting? Or two, that is.”

      “It’s okay, Mrs. Choi.” I shake my head. “I need some time with myself alone. It was emotional, the experiment today.”

      Finally, a small smile draws on her lips. “The wedding has finally drowned on you, right?” I nod, “It’s always like that.”

      “It’s okay to be emotional, Dara.” My mother smiles at me, and I fight back the tears. I can’t let them see me cry. “It was the same for all of us. You