Chapter Six

…

The lace felt coarse against my skin, the cold zipper sending a shiver up my spine. I shifted uncomfortably in the fabric, letting myself get pricked for the twentieth time. I winced as the hired seamstress looked up from her glasses hanging off her nose, "I'm sorry dear, the fabric is a little difficult to alter from how long it's been in hiding."

I smiled meekly, "It's- ahh…" Twenty-one. "It's fine, Flora. Are we almost done?"

She nodded and adjusted another pin along my back, "Nearly there, bear with me." She was a nice woman, but she couldn't see well.

Flora stepped back, piping up, "What do you think, Allison?"

Mrs. Knowles lifted her gaze from her laptop as she finalized another email, giving me a once over. She smiled and her eyes lit up, "Oh, Anna, you look stunning."

I blushed, looking down, "Thank you, this dress is gorgeous." I was surprised she had even offered me the dress.

"I'm glad you're the one wearing it." She stood, pushing out her chair and making her way to me. "I had hoped Elsa would wear it, but considering the timing I don't think she'd mind if you borrowed it."

She started to circle me, "This dress has been in the family for a long time, it dates back to the legend of the Snow Queen. They say she crafted this dress using her magic, preserving it up to this day. Apparently, it was meant for a very dear friend of hers."

I arched a brow, running my fingers through the fabric in admiration, "Must've been one hell of a friend."

Mrs. Knowles hummed in thought, "Yes, but those are just old legends. The idea of magic is ridiculous, no one believes in those stories anymore."

I stayed silent. Funny thing is, I actually still do. A big part of me always adored fairytales and fantasies. It was an easy escape for me when life became too real or cruel.

In my mind, the Snow Queen did exist. She did craft this dress using her magic, keeping it safe after all these years. I felt it along the seams, felt the love and effort within each delicate stitching. Even the cold zipper, placed perfectly on the dip of my back, told the story. It had history. It had to be real.

I wanted to know more, "Allison?" She looked up expectantly, "Tell me more about the legends of the Snow Queen."

Mrs. Knowles smiled, finding my curiosity amusing, "Well… Back then, when there were Kings and Queens, there was the kingdom of Arendelle. A young woman who ruled that kingdom alone was said to have been born with certain magical attributes."

I titlted my head, "magical attributes… like?"

"She could conjure ice and manipulate snow to her will. Like this dress, she could make clothes, she forged weapons… she also brought things to life sometimes."

"Oh wow… Do you have any old portraits or something? What did she look like?" I wanted to know so much about this woman, she sounded amazing.

"No pictures, but... this is where things get interesting and we tease about it in our family. You know how Elsa's hair is incredibly blonde?"

I nodded, "Well, the Snow Queen was described to have the same platinum blonde hair."

She laughed then, "And we always play around how the next person in the family to have that hair is supposed to be the next Snow Queen or a descendant with the same magical attributes."

"Huh, first I've heard of it."

She waved a hand in response, "Well, we don't have Elsa here to tease anymore." She smiled sadly before continuing, "But, it's just a story, Anna."

I was so deep in her tale that I hadn't noticed Flora was already done and waiting. The tailor cleared her throat, "All finished!"

Mrs. Knowles smiled and went to her desk to fill out a blank check, "Beautiful, thank you again for doing this on such short notice."

"Of course, anything for a family friend." She accepted the folded slip of paper and picked up her bags, "I'll be on my way then, congratulations, dear."

I waved her goodbye as she was shown out, giving me a minute alone to look at myself in the mirror. It was just me and my reflection, but it seemed so bizarre not really recognizing myself. The dress really was insanely gorgeous and I couldn't help but think back on the story. Subconsciously, I ran a finger along the laces by the collar and imagined this dress on someone else.

Someone like Elsa.

It seemed fitting for someone like her to be wearing a dress like this. The fabric would hug her hips as it waved out, the laces would curve over her shoulder blades. This dress would've been perfect for her. Her bare back would've shown in all the right ways.

Elsa.

She stayed true to her word and left for New York after my father's accident. She didn't call or text. She didn't even reply to the wedding invitation. It felt the same as before, after her first visit back to Chicago. When she started to push me away.

I thought we had made progress. I thought we had grown out of that or at least grown up, but we didn't. I hated it. I hated feeling like this all the time. I hated her and even that was a lie. No, I hated how much I love her. That sounded accurate. Regardless, there was hate settled with my love and it wasn't going away.

I didn't bother calling her. Why would I? What good would that do for me, or for Kristoff? Less of her meant more of him and it was getting easier again. Every time she did something like this, it was easier to fall back to Kristoff.

I raked a hand through my bangs with a sigh. I wondered what I could do with my hair for the wedding.

Mrs. Knowles came back by then, watching me struggle with my fringes. She chuckled and pulled a few bobby pins from her own bun, "Here." I stepped down from the pedestal so she could reach my hair, reveling in the feel of her fingers scratching my scalp. I closed my eyes, letting her pull away a few strands and twist them around. It felt nice.

It reminded me of my mom… before she disappeared from my life.

"There we go, how's that?" I opened my eyes and blinked back. My hair wasn't in loose strands anymore, but perfectly pinned in a unique bun.

I smiled gratefully, "Oh, I love it!"

She hugged my shoulders, "Well, you always did love the way Elsa and I put up our hair. I figured you'd want a style of your own now that you'll be a part of the family."

"I'm probably gonna need a step-by-step tutorial for this," I joked, trying to figure out where she hid all my hair.

She giggled, patting my bun playfully, "You'll get the hang of it one day."

In that moment, Kristoff knocked along the wall and leaned his body against the door frame with a whistle. "Be still my beating heart, babe, you're looking good."

I rolled my eyes, "What're you doing here? You're not supposed to see me in this yet. Bad luck."

He just shrugged, "I don't believe in that kind of superstition, right ma?"

"You may not, but I certainly do. Get out," she started to swat him away from the door with an annoyed huff.

"Aw, c'mon mom!"

Slamming the door in his face, I couldn't help my amused smile. Mrs. Knowles always knew how to put her boys in their place. That's something I could admire.

She leaned back against the door with a huff, "I swear that boy…" Looking back up at me with a grin, she chuckled, "I'm glad he has you to manage him, I can't see anyone better fit for the job."

He's the one managing me.

Alright, Anna.

Breathe.

My fingers wrung the bottom of my bouquet as I peered out past the window of our patio doors. We couldn't find a proper venue from how quickly everything was planned, but Mrs. Knowles spruced up my backyard enough to feel like we had gone somewhere else. That woman played mother and wedding planner while she worked; I'm still not sure how she pulled it off.

There weren't a lot of guests, just a few friends and our immediate family. Lawn chairs lined up equally along the sides of the aisle. They were painted an offset white, decorated in silver ribbon with a Casablanca on each one.

The same design followed up along our old gazebo, ribbons and Casablanca's hanging down from the small pillars, wrapped in lights. It gave it that Christmas feel without the actual need for garlands and mistletoes. Not a single bit of red.

Kristoff stood at the gazebo, waiting patiently like everyone else. I watched him long enough to notice the light bounce in his toes. God, he was so excited. It just made me that much more nervous.

I took a shaky breath, closing my eyes for a second. "You okay, sweetie?"

My dad rubbed a hand along my back, helping me calm down as I looked to him. He seemed thinner now with permanent bags under his eyes, but he still had that warmth within them. I smiled, "Yea, daddy, I'm fine."

He watched me, still unsure, "Anna, all I want is for you to be happy. I need to be sure this is what you want…"

Of course I knew he wanted me to be happy… but I wanted the same for him. I wanted to have this moment with him. My smile softened, "I do want this… I love Kristoff and he's been my best friend all my life. He's always been there for me and he always will be."

It wasn't a lie. I do love Kristoff and he does make me happy. He makes me laugh, he's affectionate, and he's steady. He's always been there and it made me feel wanted. Sometimes he can be enough. But my heart doesn't belong to solely him and it's taken me too long to figure it out. A part of me left for New York. A part of me was stolen by her and I will never get that back while I'm with Kristoff.

My dad squeezed my shoulder and offered me his arm, "Well, if you're ready... then I am too."

The deep grooves next to his eyes framed his face, the apples of his cheeks pink from happiness. I may never get the part of me that left with Elsa back, but if I can see my dad this happy... then it doesn't matter what I lose.

If marrying Kristoff is considered a punishment, it's the kindest yet.

I took my dad's arm, his suit felt soft against my fingers, "I really don't wanna fall today... think you can keep me steady in case I do?"

He winked at me, "If I don't fall first, then I'll keep you steady," we both started laughing at that.

God, I was going to miss this. It seemed so surreal to me, but real nonetheless.

For the most part, he seemed fine. Once in a while, he'd have a black out but it was rare. Then they became more frequent. He had to stop driving and resign at both his jobs under the insistence of the Knowles. They promised to cover everything they could for him, and he relented once I came into the conversation.

Then his memory wavered. Just once, he'd forgotten the month we were in. It was clearly December, and he thought it was the coldest July he's ever experienced in Chicago. Times like that were reminders of our limits.

But times like this, laughing together, cracking jokes… it was endless and nothing could compare.

My heart fluttered as he leaned in and kissed the side of my head, "I love you, my little girl."

I took a deep breath, taking in the scent of his cologne. Leaning into the touch, I hummed gently and let my eyes slip shut. I started counting all his kisses. It didn't matter how many I was given, it'd never be enough, but I treated each one like they were his last.

"I love you too, daddy."

The music cued and the doors opened. We looked to each other and took our first step together down the aisle. For once in my life, I didn't trip and neither did he.

Elsa didn't show up to the wedding. I didn't see or hear from her until five months later…

When she attended my father's funeral.

I wish I could say that his last few days were easy on him. That he went out with a bang or a smile on his face, but he didn't. He was confused and lost. After a seizure, he remained hospitalized under strict supervision after wandering around one night.

His memory was eaten away by disease, testing his patience each day. He had started forgetting little things, like the day of the week or time of day. Then basic functions like dressing himself properly were becoming a challenge for him. It made him moody.

The last month was the worst. He had changed completely.

For someone who was usually easy going, it was hard to see him held down and sedated after a fit of rage. He had forgotten nearly everyone, including me. The times that I visited, he assumed I was his nurse. Oddly enough, he was nicer to me than anyone else he saw, as if his heart was trying to fight his head.

I helped bathe him when he was stubborn, I fed him when he forgot how to use a fork, and I tucked him to bed when he was restless. I took care of him the way he took care of me when I was a kid. I refused to give up on him, even when he refused to keep going sometimes. Those days, he'd just stare out the window, completely lost.

His last day was the cruelest.

I was coming in that morning to make sure he would eat his breakfast. I walked into that room and he smiled as if it were any other day. Those beautiful crinkles lined the edges of his eyes, but there was warmth again. He looked to me with familiarity and said, "Hey there, my little girl. What took you so long?"

He remembered me that day. I wasn't a stranger anymore, I wasn't his nurse. The way his face lit up, I knew I was his daughter. He saw me fully and my heart nearly stopped.

We talked for ages and he didn't forget a thing. We laughed for hours, pretending we weren't in a hospital for once. It felt so nice, but it didn't change the facts. All good things are limited and I should've known it wasn't going to last. I stepped out for a minute and that's all it took to forget. I walked back in and I was a stranger again as he looked to me with such a blank stare. It fucking hurt and it wasn't fair.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, he was a good man."

Another coworker of his, someone I've never met, approached me with that remorseful look on their face. Telling me what I've been hearing on repeat for the past hour or so… I was sick of it. I didn't want to hear it anymore, but I smiled and swallowed down that pill, the one that keeps lodging in my throat when I hear those words- your loss.

Yes, I did lose him, thanks for the reminder.

I was ridiculously bitter, past the point of understanding because I couldn't process how quickly everything had changed. Meanwhile, every person here seemed to get it. They apologized as if they expected it, as if his death was so simple. To me it wasn't and I wasn't digging how they all pretended to understand it or understand how it felt to be with him through that time. They didn't see him those last months. Most people here barely knew him; they just recognized him through work. They felt guilt-tripped into coming.

The more they spoke their regrets and apologies, the more I realized it was all bullshit. It made me sick.

Kristoff stayed by my side, being the strong husband while I tried to keep my shit together. He expressed way more sympathy than I did, letting me lean on him as he answered for me. He was my rock and I was so grateful.

I looked to the hole in the ground, waiting to be filled as everyone took their time to clear out. The workers lingered in the back, being patient until they could finish their job. I appreciated their company more than those dressed in black, they seemed a little more respectful.

The white roses on my dad's casket were already sprinkled with dirt when I threw the first handful in. He was in that casket, six feet under, and for some reason my mind kept thinking I'd find him when I went home; Regardless of the fresh dirt looming over his private box. If I could finish burying him, I would. To just get it over with and move on quicker.

But it wouldn't be appropriate so I was forced to watch and wait instead.

My eyes remained fixed to the ground, until a pair of black flats came into view along the side of his grave. I looked up, letting my eyes study their figure and red locks. My brows furrowed and I couldn't help the bile feeling in my stomach.

It was my mom.

She held a napkin to her nose, silently weeping as she brushed a hand through her hair. I couldn't believe she had the nerve to cry. Kristoff felt the way I tensed in his arms, and followed my eyes. He was confused for a second, until I spoke aloud without even realizing and breaking loose from him.

"What do you think you're doing here?" It came out a little more aggressive than planned.

Her head snapped up in surprise, her mouth in a tight line as I approached her. She wore that deer-in-the-headlights stare, taking a step back when I advanced, "No, you don't get to do this today. What makes you think you could just show up like this?"

It took my mom a second to process before fighting back, trying to keep her voice hushed, "I loved him, Anna, I have the right to see him one last time."

"You lost that right when you left us!" I was screaming now and it felt so damn good. I didn't care of the scene I was causing. Screw it, I was gonna let this out one way or another and my mom just so happened to be the catalyst.

By then, most people had gone anyway; the only ones who really had to watch were the Knowles and Kristoff who had no idea how to handle this. I'm sure the workers were getting a laugh out of this too, probably wouldn't be the first bit of family drama for them.

"Enough, Anna-"

"No! You don't get to pick and choose when you can be a part of our lives, how dare you!?" Her cheeks were growing red from anger and embarrassment, lips falling to a frown the more I persisted.

Her teal eyes wilted as the tears began to freefall from her face, "I had to leave, Anna!"

"Why, Cathy?! What made you think that was a brilliant fucking idea?!"

"Because I wasn't happy in that house!" We were both breathing heavily now, waiting for someone to crack under the awkward tension.

Her lip quivered, "I… I just couldn't do it anymore."

"Couldn't what?" My throat bobbed as I swallowed, feeling the full weight of the past on my chest now.

"I-I couldn't keep pretending everything was okay… that I wasn't depressed."

"But he gave you everything; he tried to make you happy!"

I was trembling, still considering if I wanted to rip her a new one or not. When she reached for my hands, I nearly flinched away. But she held on and pleaded with her eyes, "Sometimes that's not always enough."

It felt like a warning and it also felt like bullshit. I finally pulled my hands away, "I really think you should leave."

She didn't look convinced until someone stepped behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder, "Is everything alright?"

It was the first time in months I had heard Elsa's voice since my dad's accident. She seemed to be the only one willing to step in before it could escalate again. Willing to go past her boundaries and get herself involved.

My mom didn't move her eyes from me, ignoring Elsa as she searched my face. She smacked her lips, as if she was going to say so much more but opted for a sad sigh instead.

"I-It was good to see you, Anna," adjusting the strap of her bag, she walked away with a hand over her mouth so I couldn't hear her cry. I watched her all the way to her car as she drove off and out of my life again.

I hadn't realized I was crying too until Elsa turned me around and hugged me tightly, "I'm sorry, Anna, I truly am."

Out of every single apology I heard that day, hers was the only one I welcomed.

A/N: For those still following along, thank you! I always appreciate every bit of support, see ya next time.