SERAPHINA'S POV
I was on the edge of a breakdown.
I stood in front of my full-length mirror on the night of the gala, heart pounding, palms sweaty, completely convinced the dress was a mistake.
It was a shimmering navy blue that swirled around me like liquid midnight. It was off-shoulder, with a fitted waist that flared slightly at the bottom. It made me feel regal and beautiful and... visible. Too visible.
What if it was too much? What if it was obvious that this dress—this stunning ethereal dress—did not belong on the body of someone as plain and ordinary as me?
I imagined all heads turning to me as I walked the red carpet, mouths spreading into mocking grins as people pointed and laughed, calling me an impostor.
Maybe this was a bad idea. There was still time—I could
