Fate In Formalwear

Lena had one job—pick up the wedding dress from the boutique and deliver it to her best friend, Tasha. Simple.

Except she was running late, juggling coffee, car keys, and an overloaded bag when she dashed into the shop, rattling off the order number to the cashier.

The boutique assistant disappeared behind a curtain, returning moments later with a garment bag—heavy and pristine, exactly what Lena expected.

“Here you go!” the assistant chirped. “All set for the big day.”

She barely glanced at it before racing out the door.

Meanwhile, Jason paced in his hotel room, checking his watch, shifting from foot to foot. His sister’s wedding was in just a few hours, and he had expected his tux, tailored to perfection, painstakingly chosen with his mother’s keen eye for detail, to be waiting at the concierge—neatly pressed, perfectly tailored, ready for the wedding.

Instead, his phone lit up with a notification.

“Your order has been picked up. Enjoy!”

Jason stared at the screen, brows furrowing.

Picked up?

He hadn’t left his hotel room. The tux was supposed to be ready for collection when he arrived—but now, apparently, it was gone.

The clock worked against him. Family photos were scheduled in less than thirty minutes.

With mounting frustration, he tapped the number for the boutique and pressed the phone to his ear.

A chipper voice answered. “Hello, Serendipity Bridal and Formal! How can we assist you today?”

Jason exhaled sharply, forcing himself to stay calm. “Yeah, I just got a notification saying my tux was picked up, but I haven’t received it. I was supposed to collect it from the concierge.”

A pause. Rustling paper. He could picture someone flipping through receipts behind the counter.

“Ah, yes! Your order was picked up a little while ago.”

Jason gritted his teeth. “Not by me.”

“Oh…” A longer pause. Then, a hesitant chuckle. “Well, according to our system, it was signed for.”

Jason’s fingers tightened around his phone. “By whom?”

“Uh, let me check." More typing. Another silence, stretching too long.

Jason paced the room, running a hand through his hair, his pulse tapping against his ribs.

“Okay!” The voice returned, sounding oddly proud of their investigation. “The pickup was confirmed under the name… L—Leena? No, wait… Lena! Does that ring a bell?”

Jason froze. A beat of silence.

Then his jaw set.

“No, it really doesn’t.”

“Oh. Well… she seemed very confident about it.”

Jason narrowed his eyes. “Confident?”

“Yep! Said she was picking up for the wedding.”

Jason exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to his temple, forcing himself to process what he’d just heard.

Which wedding?

His patience was thinning, and the boutique’s casual tone wasn’t helping.

His mother texted him. Where are you?

Then his brother texted him. If you don’t get here soon, I’m taking your spot in Mom’s perfect family lineup.

Jason ignored them both and pressed the phone closer. “Listen. I need my tux. Now. Do you still have it?”

“Well… no?”

Jason’s pulse kicked harder. “You sent it somewhere?”

“Oh, no. We don’t do deliveries on weekends.”

Jason blinked once.

Then clenched his jaw.

Of course. Just his luck

“I’m coming there now,” he said, short and firm. “And that tux better be waiting when I arrive.”

“Um… well—”

Jason hung up before the employee could make things worse.

His tux had been hijacked.

And whoever this Lena was, she was about to meet him very soon.

A knock at his hotel door startled him. His brother poked his head in, already dressed in his suit.

“You good? Mom wants family photos in twenty-five minutes.”

Jason inhaled sharply, barely containing his frustration.

“Where’s your tux?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it.

“I’ll be right back.”

Keys in hand, shirt half-buttoned, Jason stormed toward the lobby.

Meanwhile...

Lena burst into Tasha’s bridal suite, breathless. “Got it!”

She unzipped the bag with a dramatic flourish.

Instead of delicate lace and flowing silk, a perfectly pressed tux stared back at her.

Silence.

Tasha’s mother, who had been adjusting the veil, froze mid-motion, hand hovering inches from the fabric.

The maid of honor sucked in a sharp breath.

Then—

“Lena. What. Is. That?”

Panic.

Lena’s fingers trembled as she scrolled frantically for the boutique’s number.

“Tasha, I—”

“I cannot get married in a tux, Lena.”

“I know! I know. I’ll fix this!”

She bolted from the bridal suite, nearly crashing into a hotel employee maneuvering a cart overflowing with flower arrangements. Someone yelped. She didn’t stop.

Twenty-Five Agonizing Minutes Later

Jason stormed into Serendipity Bridal and Formal just as Lena skidded through the door.

They locked eyes.

A beat of stunned silence.

Then—

“Jason!”

“You’re Lena?” Jason stared, disbelief twisting his features.

And at the same time—

“You took my tux!”

“Where’s Tasha’s wedding dress?”

The boutique assistant, mid-sip of her tea, blinked at them.

“I knew something felt off,” she mumbled.

Then—chaos.

An employee yanked a garment bag off the rack so forcefully that the entire stand wobbled. Another dropped a clipboard, scattering papers across the floor. Phones rang with rushed apologies.

Lena nearly threw herself into the fabric racks when the dress wasn’t immediately found.

Finally, at the very last possible second, Lena tore out of the shop, narrowly dodging a parking ticket, dress clutched in a death grip.

Jason, now properly attired, arrived just in time for photos.

Tasha walked down the aisle in the dress she was supposed to wear.

And somehow, despite the madness, the day went on.

But the story didn’t end there.

One Year Later

Lena didn’t believe in coincidences.

Not really.

But here she was—standing outside Serendipity Bridal and Formal, holding another receipt, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Lena?”

She turned—Jason. Dressed casually, coffee in one hand, a familiar smirk in place.

She let out a breath, shaking her head. “What are the odds?”

Jason chuckled, glancing at the boutique. “Fate bringing us back to the scene of our greatest disaster?”

Lena huffed a laugh. “You’re one to talk. You showed up here last time demanding answers.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “I think I had a right to. Someone walked off with my tux.”

She groaned. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

He grinned. “That depends—are you picking up a tux today?”

She held up her receipt. “Nope. Tasha’s anniversary dinner. I promised her I wouldn’t mess up the dress this time.”

Jason tucked his receipt into his pocket. “I’m here for my friend’s wedding tux. This time, I’m making sure it doesn’t disappear.”

A pause. A glance exchanged, lingering this time.

Jason tilted his head slightly. “You know, last year’s mix-up wasn’t all bad.”

She arched a brow. “Oh?”

Jason held her gaze for a beat. “It gave me a chance to get to know you.”

Lena blinked, taken off guard. Then, as if on instinct, she smirked.

“You know,” she said, this time carefully checking the tag on her garment bag before moving, “considering how much running we did that day, maybe fate was trying to tell us something.”

Jason grinned. “Like what?”

She tilted her head, considering. “That maybe—just maybe—we should trust each other with deliveries again.”

Jason extended his hand toward her, a teasing gesture.

"Alright, Lena. Let’s try this again—this time, no tuxes in bridal suites."

She took his hand.

And this time, she double-checked the bag before leaving.

No mix-ups.

No chaos.

Just a second chance.