Olivia stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the black tunic over her high-waisted mom jeans. The fabric flowed effortlessly, cinched slightly at the waist to emphasize her curves without being too revealing. She tugged at the hem, wondering if it was too much or not enough.
Her sneakers—a pair of spotless Stan Smiths—were a deliberate choice. Comfortable, casual, yet stylish. She didn’t want to appear like she was trying too hard, even though she’d agonized over the outfit for the better part of an hour. The tunic was a designer piece she’d borrowed from her sister’s closet, something she wouldn’t normally wear, but tonight called for effort.
Her phone buzzed on the counter, snapping her out of her thoughts. She picked it up, her heart sinking slightly when she saw the message waiting
