EVE
By the time Emma finished with me, I barely recognized the woman staring back from the mirror.
She tilted my chin with one manicured finger, studying her masterpiece like a proud artist. "You, my dear, are dangerously hot. If I weren't your best friend, I'd hate you."
I laughed, half-embarrassed, half-in awe. My reflection was radiant... hair swept into soft waves, skin glowing, lips the perfect shade of confidence. The red dress we'd picked hugged me just right: elegant but daring enough to make a statement.
I'd forgotten what it felt like to look at myself and actually like what I saw. For days, I'd been stuck between exhaustion and avoidance—ignoring Roman's nine unread messages since that awkward car ride, pretending silence could hold everything together.
But sile
