POV: Elena
Saturday mornings were supposed to be quiet.
Instead, I found myself standing in front of the mirror in my bedroom, wondering how I had become the kind of person who spent twenty minutes deciding which dress looked the most convincing beside her fake fiancé.
I frowned at my reflection. The pale blue dress my mother had insisted I wear was elegant without being flashy. It fell just below my knees, and the fitted waist made me look older than I felt. She had even curled my hair, claiming it would "soften" my features.
"You look beautiful." I glanced over my shoulder. My mother smiled from the doorway, eyes glowing with unmistakable pride. “Don’t worry,” she said softly. "You'll do fine." "I'm not worried about the luncheon."
"No?" "I'm worried about pretending."
She stepped
