Mending Us

Lucy Hart had always imagined success would arrive with noise and celebration. Fireworks bursting across the sky, champagne corks flying, the kind of moment where the world seemed to pause long enough for her to bask in the joy of the moment.

It did, but internally. And it’s been nearly three months.

Almost giddy with happiness, she made a vlog about it, showing her joy as she took in the soft scent of fresh fabric and newly painted walls drifting through a boutique not much larger than the tiny apartment she had once lived in. It shimmered in the warm lights, reflecting off carefully arranged displays, and in the steady hum of life moving through the mall outside.

She finished the video and squealed. This little store, every rack, every folded piece of clothing, every detail she had chosen herself, was hers and her best friend, Mala.

Racks of dresses lined the walls, carefully color-coordinated. Soft music hummed from hidden speakers. Decorative mirrors reflected the movement of customers trying on jackets, skirts, and statement pieces Lucy had personally selected.

Everything in the store carried their taste, their aesthetic, and their stubborn determination. Both at twenty-six, Lucy and Mala had built this place from scratch, pinching and saving every cent they could, which became easier with their lives.

Mala, closing off her phone herself, stood behind the polished white counter of the store, Velvet Thread, watching customers browse the racks with curiosity and excitement, with the sole girl they had hired just a week ago.

The boutique sat in one of the busiest malls in Las Vegas, right between a cosmetics store and a luxury sneaker shop. Not bad placement for a small but thriving business.

Near closing time, Mala dismissed the salesgirl, standing to admire the golden letters of the store name gleaming above the entrance, catching the bright mall lights. A customer was holding several bags in front of a mirror, admiring them and possibly figuring out which one she wanted.

Sizing up the customer who’d just stepped inside- a regular- Lucy absently tucked a loose strand of chestnut hair behind her ear. The gesture was unnecessary as her hair was already neatly pulled back beneath a simple headband that matched the cloth belt around her waist.

Seeing Mala heading towards her, Lucy decided to begin closing the sales when her phone buzzed on the counter. Lucy flipped it over and saw the notification: TikTok- 62,000 likes on their latest video.

She laughed softly. “We did it, Evi.”

Her TikTok account started as a joke a few years ago, featuring quick outfit transitions, styling tips, and “mall-girl fashion hacks.” Somehow, it had exploded. Almost two million followers later, the attention had turned into real money, sponsorships, and finally the dream she’d whispered about for years.

A store of her own. Well, hers and her best friend’s.

“Excuse me?”

Lucy glanced up, pulled from her thoughts. The young woman who had been admiring the handbags earlier now stood at the counter with three dresses draped over one arm, an uncertain but hopeful smile on her face.

“Can I try these on?”

“Of course,” Lucy answered warmly, stepping out from behind the counter. “The fitting rooms are right this way.”

Relief brightened the girl’s expression as she hurried after her, excitement replacing her earlier hesitation.

Once she had shown her into a fitting room, Lucy returned to the register, a familiar warmth settling in her chest. This was the part of the job she loved most. Not the sales or the numbers, but helping someone discover a piece that made them stand a little taller when they looked in the mirror.

Watching someone’s shoulders straighten when they found something that made them feel beautiful or confident never grew old. People often thought boutiques simply sold clothes, but Lucy had come to believe they offered something far more meaningful.

Sometimes all it took was the right dress, a well-fitted blazer, or a simple blouse, a matching bag or bracelet to help someone see themselves a little differently. To smile back at the person staring back in the mirror.

Lucy knew better than most how easy it was to lose pieces of yourself along the way. Confidence wasn’t always found in grand achievements. Sometimes it returned in the smallest moments, and if she could give someone even one of those moments before they walked out the door, every long day at Velvet Thread felt worthwhile.

Across the boutique, Mala was still assisting another customer, patiently answering questions while comparing two jackets the woman couldn’t seem to choose between.

Outside the store, the mall buzzed with weekend energy. Tourists walked past carrying shopping bags, teenagers clustered around smoothie stands, and the distant sound of slot machines drifted faintly from the nearby casino entrance.

Vegas never really slept, and this was good for business.

The bell above the boutique door chimed, and Lucy glanced up casually, then immediately sensed trouble. The woman who entered had the unmistakable air of someone who believed the world existed purely for her convenience. And another familiar face to Lucy.

Tall stilettos clicked sharply across the floor. Her platinum-blonde hair was pulled into a severe ponytail, and her oversized sunglasses remained perched on her face despite the indoor lighting.

She scanned the store like a critic inspecting a mediocre art exhibit.

Lucy gave her usual friendly smile. “Welcome to Velvet Thread.”

The woman didn’t respond. Instead, she wandered toward a display table where Lucy had arranged several designer handbags imported from a small brand she’d discovered online. The girl from the changing room returned, and Lucy cashed her out, thanked her with a brilliant smile, handing over a 20% off card for her next purchase.

As the girl made her way out, the blonde woman stopped cold. “I’ll take that one.”

Lucy blinked. “I’m sorry?” The bag she pointed to had a sold card placed on it. So Lucy stepped out from behind the counter to examine it better, giving the woman the benefit of the doubt. Maybe from this angle, it only seemed that way, as there were many other bags as well.

“That bag.” The woman pointed a perfectly manicured finger at the very one with the sold tag. “Wrap it up.”

Lucy hesitated for half a second. “I’m afraid that bag has already been purchased.” It had been ordered online earlier at a 40% off opening offer. Opening deals were finishing at the mark of their three-month anniversary.

The woman slowly lowered her luxury sunglasses. Her eyes narrowed like someone who had just been personally insulted. “I don’t think you understand,” she said coolly. “I want that bag.”

Lucy kept her smile polite but firm, eyeing Mala, who was now looking over at them as she went to the cash register with the last remaining customer.

“And I understand that,” she said. “But it’s already been sold to-”

Lucy turned to the woman who was beginning to annoy her, fully. “That won’t be necessary,” she said calmly. “The purchase has already been completed.”

The woman folded her arms. “Triple.”

Lucy almost laughed. “Ma’am, I’m sorry but-.”

The much taller blonde woman’s lips twisted in disbelief. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

Oh boy. “No,” she said pleasantly. “But I do know how a receipt works, and I told you it’s unavailable. Perhaps I can make an order for you at a later date?” Lucy sighed internally. Since she was gorgeous and had a pompous air to her, but seemed familiar, she was probably Hollywood famous.

These sorts never returned to pick up an order. Mala and Lucy assumed they were too busy spending their millions on luxury brands to be overly concerned with the little people.

The blonde woman’s expression darkened. “This is ridiculous,” she snapped. “My husband owns this mall.”

Ah, an heiress. Lucy blinked. Is this how rich wives behaved? Owning the mall does not mean her husband owns her business.

Suddenly, Miss Platinum Blonde yanked her phone from her purse and held it up. The camera pointed directly at Lucy. “Oh my god, you guys,” the woman said loudly, slipping into the exaggerated tone of someone addressing an online audience. “I’m literally being harassed by a store employee right now.”

Heart in her throat, Lucy stared at her, then towards the cash register. “You’re… filming?”

Mala’s eyes were wide as she bagged the customer’s items. The customer herself looked amused as she took in the scene.

“Obviously.” The woman stepped closer, angling the phone for dramatic effect. “This is the little clerk refusing to sell me an item even though my husband owns the entire mall.”

Lucy blinked again. That wasn’t even close to what happened. Lucy could feel the situation spiraling toward something messy, exactly the kind of viral drama that spread across social media within minutes.

Unfortunately for the woman… Lucy knew social media better than most. Now composing herself, she straightened and gave the camera a bright smile. “Which platform?”

The woman froze.

Lucy leaned into the phone with a bright smile. “Tiny correction,” she said lightly. “This lovely lady has fallen in love with a handbag that’s already been sold to one of my lovely followers, and I’m refusing to snatch it away from the customer who bought it already.”

The blonde woman’s confidence faltered slightly.

“A customer here is a witness to that." Lucy, stretching her smile wider, guided the blonde woman’s phone to the customer, and Mala and the girls waved awkwardly.

Lucy then pointed her pistol fingers towards the camera, “We also have footage here.” She made a display of her hands. “But hey,” she added lightly, “if your husband owns the mall, I’m sure he can build you another handbag store right next door.”

The woman’s eyes widened in fury, and she put down her phone. “You’re going to regret this.”

Lucy tilted her head. “Probably not.”

For a moment, the two women stared at each other.

“This place won’t last six months.”

Lucy gave a sweet smile. “We’re on a three-year contract, so I’m feeling optimistic. Sue me, or rather… I’ll sue you. I hope you got all that on video.”

A.N.

Guys, if you get a notification of an update, there is no need to go back. It's just grammar errors being corrected.

Please comment so I know what you feel or think while you read. (I love this part)

Enjoy...