Bella sat still while hands moved gently around her—powder brushes, soft sponges, the quiet click of compacts being opened and shut. She could smell the delicate scent of rose water mixed with something sweet like vanilla every time the makeup artist leaned closer.
Her hair was curled in soft, romantic waves and pinned up in places with tiny, sparkling hairpins that caught the light whenever she turned her head. A warm light from the mirror surrounded her like a halo, making her big brown eyes look even softer.
The stylists worked patiently, carefully—fixing stray strands, brushing a hint of color onto her lips, dabbing highlighter on her cheekbones until she glowed like morning sunlight.
When they finally stepped back, one of them whispered, "Take a look, Ma'am."
Bella slowly opened her eyes fully and turned toward the mirror.
The girl staring back at her made her breath catch in her throat.
It was her.
But also not her.
