“I don't mean to offend you.”
“Then stop making assumptions about me.”
The boutique suddenly felt much quieter.
Vanessa's confident expression began to crack. She had expected embarrassment, perhaps an awkward retreat or a customer who would quietly accept her suggestion. Instead, Amara stood perfectly still, looking at her as though the saleswoman's behavior had revealed something far more important than the handbag itself.
Amara reached into her handbag and removed a slim black cardholder.
“I came here for this specific design,” she said. “I've already researched the collection. I know its price, its materials, and its limited availability.”
Vanessa's eyes briefly flicked toward the cardholder.
Amara noticed.
“You seem very concerned about whether I can afford it.”
“That's not what I said.”
“No. You were more careful than that.”
Vanessa's lips tightened.
Amara continued, her tone measured and precise.
“You didn't ask what I was looking for. You didn't explain the design. You didn't offer to show me the craftsmanship. You looked at me, decided I didn't belong in front of this display, and tried to redirect me somewhere else.”
Vanessa opened her mouth to answer, but Amara raised one hand slightly—not aggressively, simply asking her to wait.
“Now, I'd like to see the bag.”
For a moment, Vanessa stood frozen behind the glass cabinet.
Then she reached for the display key.
“Of course,” she said stiffly.
She unlocked the case and carefully lifted the handbag onto a padded presentation tray. Her movements were precise, but the tension in her face was unmistakable.
Amara examined the bag without rushing. She inspected the stitching along the handles, the leather grain, and the gold clasp. Her questions were specific. Vanessa answered the first two, then faltered when Amara asked about the production series and the origin of the leather.
The saleswoman recovered quickly.
“I can check that information for you.”
“Please do.”
Amara looked at the handbag again.