The soft hum of the dressing room surrounded her— the rustle of fabric, the murmur of stylists, the faint click of heels across marble floors.
Emma stood before the mirror, still and silent.
The woman staring back at her looked ethereal— wrapped in a white gown that shimmered like moonlight, delicate crystals tracing the neckline, a matching mask resting lightly across her face. The gown hugged her waist, falling in waves that kissed the floor.
But behind the glimmer, her eyes told another story.
Her thoughts weren’t here— not in the lights, not in the mirror, not in the promise of cameras waiting outside. They were in a quiet hospital room across town, where her little boy lay beneath pale sheets.
Is he awake now? Did he eat something? Did the nurse give him his medicine on time?
He
