My lungs contract, and I’m left gasping for air as I watch Zahara glide among the guests. They part like a wave to let her pass. I can’t move a muscle. I can’t even breathe, absolutely floored by the magnificent sight of her. She walks with sure steps, head held high as if utterly unconcerned by everybody’s stares. Their blatant gawking leaves no question—they are seeing her for the first time. In all her regal glory. Through the crowd, she strides like a princess. No… like a f*****g queen.
My queen.
Our gazes collide at that moment, and it feels like a wrecking ball just whacked me square in the chest. In a split second, I realize how monumentally wrong I’ve been to doubt this woman’s inner strength. The girl who spent years trying to be invisible no longer exists.
I’m completely absor
