The first thing Mary taught Victoria was how to smile again.
Not the real one.
The useful one.
They stood in front of a tall mirror in the spare room. Morning light slipped through the curtains, soft and pale. Victoria barely recognized the woman staring back at her. Her face was thinner now. Her eyes held something darker, something deeper.
“Smile,” Mary said.
Victoria tried.
It came out wrong. Tight. Careful. Like a lie that knew it was a lie.
Mary shook her head. “Too stiff.”
“I’m not happy,” Victoria said.
“You don’t need to be,” Mary replied. “You need to look harmless.”
Victoria frowned. “Harmless?”
Mary stepped closer, adjusting Victoria’s shoulders. “People fear anger. They fear confidence. But they relax around softness. Around calm.”
Victoria tried again.
This time,
