Bella’s POV
I sat at the dressing table. The mirror was cold under my fingertips. Morning sun sliced through the curtains and burned stripes across my face. I dipped the brush into loose powder. Dust rose like smoke. I dragged it over my cheeks—slow strokes. My hand shook a little. Not from nerves. From rage.
Ava.
Her name sat in my throat like a stone that I couldn’t swallow.
She had marble floors that stayed cool even in summer. Sheets that smelled like clean cotton and him. Leon’s hands on her waist. Gentle and careful. Like she might break. While mine still carried the purple shadows from where he gripped too hard last week.
I stared at my reflection. Red lipstick smeared a little at the corner. I licked it clean, tasting the wax. Smoky shadow made my eyes look bigger. Hollow. Jus
