Dressed in Doubt
Caitlyn tugged at the hem of her dress, lips pressed into a hard, thin line. Her reflection stared back from the mirror. Tired, hollow, uncertain.
“I don’t like this, Jayce. It looks… wrong.”
Her voice was quiet, scraped raw by too many sleepless nights. She ran a hand through her tangled hair, fingers pausing at the dark circles shadowing her eyes. Rest had been elusive lately. It always was when the past refused to stay buried.
Once, her name carried weight. Caitlyn Kiramman, the darling of Piltover’s society. Galas bent around her. Trends followed her lead. A single glance of approval could make or break a career.
But that was before Maddie. Before the whispers turned sharp, and the city that once cheered for her shifted to whispers behind wine glasses and rehearsed smiles. The fall had been swift, and cruel.
Now, all that remained was a woman she barely recognized. Someone who flinched at her own reflection.
Once, she would’ve scoffed at weakness. Now, it clung to her like a second skin.
Still… Jayce stayed.
“You’re doing that thing again,” he said from behind, casually winding a lock of her hair around his finger. “The dramatic overthinking. Full points for execution.”
“Was not.” Caitlyn muttered.
Jayce raised a brow. “Right. And I’m a sewer rat from Zaun.”
A reluctant chuckle escaped her. Just a twitch of the mouth. But it was enough.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said.
“Ridiculous is part of my brand,” Jayce said with a grin. “But you? You look fine. Better than fine.”
She looked away, hand drifting to the back of her neck, a habit that had formed in the worst of it. When her apartment had become more cage than comfort. When silence screamed louder than headlines.
Jayce noticed. He always noticed. But he didn’t push. Just rested a hand on her shoulder, steady and warm.
He hadn’t been there when it all fell apart. His schedule was packed, politics, product launches, global tours. He returned to a city still buzzing with scandal and found the Caitlyn he knew swallowed whole by it. The spark in her eyes had dulled. Her voice had grown sharper. Guarded.
“I made a reservation,” he said, gently steering the conversation forward. “Jericho’s. Window seat.”
She raised an eyebrow. “That’s your favorite.”
Jayce feigned offense. “It’s our spot.”
Caitlyn arched an elegant brow.
“…Fine. I might’ve dragged you there once or twice. But come on, have you had their shimmerfin? Life-changing.”
She exhaled a quiet laugh. “Still dramatic.”
He shot her a wink. “And proud of it. Now come on. The driver’s waiting. You’ve brooded enough for one day.”
The sunlight in her living room hit like a punch, bright and unrelenting, pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows Jayce had insisted on opening.
Caitlyn winced, lifting a hand to shield her face. “Trying to blind me?”
“You need sunlight,” Jayce said cheerfully. “Touch grass. Breathe air. Remember the outside world?”
“You’re insufferable.”
“And yet, you keep me around.”
The elevator ride down was swift. A neatly dressed hostess greeted them with a bow.
“Ground floor, Ms. Kiramman? Mr. Talis?”
“Yes, thank you,” Caitlyn replied, her voice poised.
There was a time she wouldn’t have responded. The old Caitlyn would’ve barely spared a glance. But that woman, the one sculpted by legacy and guarded by pride, was gone.
What remained was quieter. Gentler. Human.
The hostess offered a soft smile, eyes flicking toward Caitlyn with something like admiration. Not pity. Not scandal. Just quiet regard.
To her, Caitlyn wasn’t a disgraced heiress or a walking headline. She was simply a tired woman in a dress, trying to move forward.
As they stepped off the elevator, Jayce tossed a casual “Thanks!” over his shoulder. Caitlyn offered a small smile in return. The lobby buzzed with the early crowd, but something about the way the two entered stilled the room just slightly.
Jayce had that effect. Tailcoat swinging, grin effortless, he lit up every room he walked into. People turned. Noticed. Admired.
Caitlyn always assumed the attention was for him. She didn’t see the eyes that lingered on her too. The ones who saw the poised woman at his side, chin lifted, gaze steady. A little bruised. A little tired.
But still standing.
“What’s the rush?” she asked as Jayce practically ushered her into the backseat.
“I’m starving,” he said, flashing a grin. “And today, you are not overthinking about anything. That’s an order.”
She let out a breath, shaking her head as the car pulled away from the curb.
Wounded as she was, Caitlyn Kiramman wasn’t done yet.
Not by a long shot.