Chapter 41

Syria’s POV

I stood in front of the mirror, frozen.

A team of stylists surrounded me. One carefully curling my hair, another smoothing out the creases in the long white gown I wore.

The fabric shimmered under the soft lighting, perfectly tailored to hug my shape.

I looked like a dream. At least, that’s what they wanted me to look like.

That’s what this entire day was supposed to be, a dream.

But it wasn’t.

As I stared at my reflection, I didn’t feel joy or excitement. I didn’t even feel nervous. What I felt was rage. Deep, suffocating rage.

I tried to steady my breathing, biting back the overwhelming urge to scream or cry, or both. Then, a knock broke through the tension.

“Is she ready?” a voice called from behind the door.

I recognized his voice immediately.

The door opened and he stepped in.

The moment he entered, a strange feeling washed over me.

Déjà vu.

I’d lived this exact moment before. I was getting dressed, people were fussing over me, perfecting every detail… but that w