The roar of Maya’s aging automatic scooter engine ground to a halt right in front of Mira’s boarding house gate with a dramatic, squeaky whine, as if its internal components were actively screaming for early retirement. Mira bolted out of her room wearing an oversized hoodie and faded jeans, carrying out her sacred mission to hunt down a wedding guest dress and rescue her dignity from a steep nosedive.

"Well, you got dressed fast. That's a first—no three-hour hair-straightening ritual this time," Maya teased the moment Mira swung her leg over the back seat and patted the cushion.

"Don't waste breath complaining, Your Majesty. Time is money, even if my bank account currently only holds loose change meant for Alfamart parking fees," Mira snapped back defensively as she adjusted a borrowed helmet that was two sizes too big, causing the visor to slip right over her nose. "Now hit the gas! Destination: end-of-month clearance sale shopping mall!"

The scooter zipped through the congested night traffic of the city. Their destination was a mid-tier shopping center famous for its clearance sales—offering seventy percent off plus an extra discount if you paid using specific digital wallet apps.

As soon as they stepped inside the second-floor boutique, the clash of fashion ideologies between Mira and Maya exploded instantly.

"Mira, listen to me," Maya said, grabbing Mira by both shoulders in front of a rack of discounted clothes. "You’re going to an ex-boyfriend’s wedding, not marching in an Independence Day parade or starring in a historical war epic. Do not pick anything with a neon leopard print! My eyes are burning just looking at it."

Mira let out a cynical scoff as she sneered at a shiny, bright moss-green satin dress she was holding up. "You’re just jealous, May! This is cutting-edge natural retro-futurism. That way, when I walk down the aisle, Satya’s jaw will drop and he’ll regret to his core that he let go of a creative genius like me."

"Creative genius your left foot!" Maya snapped, snatching the moss-green monstrosity straight out of Mira's hands and launching it back onto the rack. "If you wear that, Satya isn't going to think you're an ex; he's going to think you arrived as an escaped boiled cassava leaf spirit! Pick something with a human color palette, for crying out loud!"

After fifteen minutes of intense bickering that almost got them thrown out by a security guard who assumed they were about to throw hands in the middle of the store, Mira finally caved to Maya's advice and focused their search on the clearance rack designated for formal party gowns.

And that was where the true circle of hell began.

A Sales Promotion Girl (SPG) with a perpetually sour expression and heavily drawn-on, arched-to-the-heavens eyebrows approached them with a pasted-on smile dripping with pure insincerity. Her eyes swept over Mira from head to toe with the condescending gaze of a tax auditor cornering a chronic delinquent.

"Excuse me, miss. What size are you looking for? The models on the front rack are quite premium, strictly intended for VIP guests with proportionally balanced physiques," the sales clerk cooed in a voice deliberately softened to slice right through the heart.

Mira shot her a glare, refusing to let her self-worth get trampled by a retail worker whose entire personality relied on matte lipstick. "Listen here, honorable sales rep, your eyes clearly need recalibration at the local metrology office! My body is exceptionally proportional for an overthinking type of girl. Now go fetch the absolute flashiest size-M dress in this entire store, chop-chop!"

With a deeply twisted grimace, the SPG finally dragged over a few dresses pulled straight from the absolute bottom of the clearance pile. Mira retreated into a claustrophobic fitting room measuring one by one meter, reeking faintly of a futsal locker room.

The dress-trial drama commenced. The first option Mira squeezed into was a tight black slip dress with a daring low neckline. After huffing, puffing, and wriggling her way into it, she discovered the back zipper was completely jammed halfway up her spine, leaving her trapped inside the fabric like a caterpillar failing its metamorphosis.

"May! Maya! Code red, help me!" Mira shrieked from inside the fitting room, banging wildly on the thin plywood door. "I’m stuck! My backbone is about to snap in half!"

Maya, who was sitting outside casually playing a mobile game, stood up and cracked open the fitting room door. The second she laid eyes on Mira’s trapped form, Maya clamped both hands over her mouth, shaking violently as she fought off a fit of laughter.

"Oh sweet lord, Mir! You look precisely like a banana-leaf rice wrapper tied way too tight in the middle!" Maya finally burst out, laughing uncontrollably. "Are you still getting oxygen through your nose? Don't you dare kick the bucket before you treat me to that seblak!"

"You're trash, you're literally not helping at all!" Mira huffed, gasping for air as the tight fabric squeezed her chest. "This zipper is anti-criticism, it's jammed just like my ex's brain when I asked him for long-term commitment!"

After a joint wrestling match involving aggressive fabric pulling and cold sweat, the rice-wrapper dress was finally peeled off. Mira tried on the next two options, each more absurd than the last: one dragged along the floor like a broom, another featured a massive, puffy balloon sleeve on just one side resembling a professional baseball player's gear, and a blazing canary-yellow number that transformed Mira’s complexion into a public streetlamp bulb.

The same sales clerk stood outside the fitting room folding her arms across her chest, letting out an audible sigh of disgust every time Mira stepped out to model another catastrophic look.

"Well, miss? Care to take the bright yellow one? It matches the traffic lights on the toll road wonderfully," the clerk sniped with a toxic smile that made Mira want to throw a sandal at her face.

"Don't be a smart aleck, retail queen!" Mira shot back defensively. "This store claims massive clearance sales, but what kind of leftovers are you hiding back here? This inventory looks like recycled import burlap sacks!"

Having completely depleted her energy, patience, and facing a store closing time that was rapidly approaching, Mira hit a wall of pure frustration. Her feet were aching, her stomach was growling a desperate war cry for Maya’s promised seblak, and the approaching reality of wedding day D-day was giving her a throbbing migraine.

At the very back of an almost forgotten rental rack, Mira’s eyes caught a glimpse of a dress hanging all by its lonesome. It was crafted from soft, layered tulle in a gentle, billowing baby pink shade that possessed a surprisingly grand volume, subtly dusted with shimmering faux rhinestones along the neckline.

Mira fished the dress out, ran her fingers over the fabric, and held it up against her body in front of the store's full-length mirror.

"Hmm... wait a minute, May. This one doesn't look half bad if you squint from five meters away," Mira mumbled, spinning around to check her silhouette.

Maya stepped closer, inspecting the baby pink tulle creation from top to bottom. "Well, the pink color is cute, sweet like vanilla custard-filled cream puffs. But... check out the tag size, Mir."

Mira glanced down at the collar label. "Size L... Wait, my body is basically a solid S or a cramped M. A size L means..."

"Meaning the waist is going to swallow you whole, looking precisely like a village auntie’s house dress on her way to a night market," Maya supplied the bitter reality instantly.

"Ah, whatever!" Mira dismissed with a wave, already mentally and emotionally exhausted. "The important thing is the color is graceful, looks expensive, and covers my malnourished physique. If the waist is loose, I'll just wrap it with a traditional corset wrap or pin a hundred safety pins to it!"

Too tired to argue further and thoroughly over the judgmental SPG hovering nearby, Mira surrendered to fate. She decided to rent the billowy baby pink tulle gown, fully acknowledging that its oversized dimensions ran the high risk of making her look like a three-tier wedding cake wandering around the Earth.

"Sales rep! I’ll take this one!" Mira called out with a tone of hollow, forced victory. "Please log the paperwork right now, I am in a desperate rush to go eat seblak!"

The clerk could only shake her head slowly while printing out the rental receipt with the expression of someone who had just serviced an alien lifeform.

Emerging from the boutique carrying a bulky shopping bag stuffed with the baby pink dress, Mira let out a massive sigh in the mall parking lot. Stage one of the logistical battle was officially concluded with psychological scars and top-tier drama.

"Got the gown, Your Supreme Highness?" Maya asked as she kicked her noisy automatic scooter back to life. "Because now it is time to collect our sacred pact: Hell-level spicy chicken feet seblak!"

"Yes, yes, relax! My wallet might be weeping in a dark corner, but debts owed to my dearest best friend will never go unpaid!" Mira replied, climbing back onto the scooter, ready to blaze a trail toward Bi Inah's food stall to wash away the horrors of wedding-prep battle.