The lock clicked, Seraphina leaned back against the wood, her knuckles white as she gripped the handle. She didn't move. She couldn't.
With every breath, the faint, cloying scent of his high-end perfume clung to her.
Her hair, usually a tangled mess of messy buns and neglected ends, now cascaded over her shoulders in thick, professionally styled waves. The light caught the shimmer of an expensive highlighter on her cheekbones, painting a version of herself that felt like a stranger caught in the mirror.
She felt like an impostor. A ghost haunting her own life.
"Seraphina?"
The voice was soft, hesitant. Seraphina looked up, her eyes wide as she found Emily sitting cross-legged on the bed.
The silence that followed was heavy. Emily's phone slipped from her limp fingers, hitting the mattress with a muffled thud. She didn't reach for it. She didn't even blink. She just stared, her mouth slightly agape as she processed the metamorphosis standing in her doorway.
