Emily
I descended the stairs with measured steps, spine straight, shoulders squared, expression neutral.
Control.
That was the goal today.
I'd chosen this outfit carefully—a tailored blouse tucked neatly into high-waisted trousers, a blazer structured enough to make me feel anchored. It wasn’t flashy, not loud, not attention-seeking. Just elegant. Clean lines. Muted colors. The kind of clothing that said I belong anywhere I stand.
It felt foreign on my body.
I rarely dressed like this. As a sculptor, days were spent in oversized shirts, worn jeans, clothes I didn’t mind ruining with clay dust and plaster stains. Clothing was usually an afterthought, a practical necessity rather than a statement.
Today, it was armor.
As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I caught the subtle shift i
