Anna
I hate it.
I hate every second of this.
We were sitting inside the private room of one of New York’s most exclusive boutiques, a place so expensive and elegant that even the air smelled rich. The name of the store was French, long and complicated, filled with unnecessary silent letters that my tongue would probably butcher if I even attempted to pronounce it. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting soft golden light across the room, while giant mirrors lined the walls from floor to ceiling, reflecting luxury from every angle.
Everything around me looked unreal.
The cream-colored couches were softer than my mattress back at the dorm, the marble flooring shined like glass, and racks filled with designer gowns stood arranged with military precision. Every dress looked lik
