Bella
While I was in the middle of a world-class career sulk, Miro decided to add me as his plus-one to Claire’s wedding.
It was a cruel act, I’d say, considering she was the one who had rejected my design three weeks ago, sending my confidence into a tailspin. I had contemplated not going—the thought of watching her walk down the aisle in someone else’s creation felt like salt in a very fresh wound—but Miro had been relentless.
He convinced me that hiding in my room wouldn’t fix my heart, and that I needed to face the “lion’s den” to prove I was over it. Plus, he insisted that Claire wanted me to come.
The midnight-blue silk wrap I’d designed felt like a second skin as I smoothed it down. I caught my reflection in the mirror, and for the first time in weeks, I didn’t look like a woman
