The hem of the emerald dress shimmered faintly each time I shifted under the soft glow of Ash's vanity lights, the kind of green that caught fire when it moved... deep and liquid, like forest shadows swallowing sunlight.
One of the designers crouched behind me, pinning a final adjustment to the slit that climbed daringly high along my thigh, while another fussed over the curve of the neckline that dipped lower than I was brave enough to admit.
I stared at my reflection and for a long, disorienting second, didn't recognize her... the woman in the mirror with the glass-cut posture and the soft, knowing eyes rimmed in gold dust. Despite losing so many people she never thought she would in just a year... she looked… untouchable. Like she'd learned to hold her chin high even when her heart felt heavy.
