I stare at my own reflection in the mirror, hardly recognizing the woman caught within the faint glow of early morning light. Dark circles haunt my eyes from too many sleepless nights, and my cheeks are hollowed by the weight of a decision I can no longer avoid. My hands tremble at my sides, as if they sense the fate awaiting me. Even the shape of my shoulders looks different, tense and drawn, like I’ve aged years in the span of days.
This isn’t the first time I’ve stared down my own image and questioned my choices, but it’s the first time my pulse races so fiercely it hurts. I’m dressed in a stark outfit, just a simple blouse and fitted pants, deliberately plain compared to the ceremonial garb I’ve worn in the past. Every line of fabric hugging my body seems to highlight how vulnerable I
