|60: Epilogue.

ZEYNEP

TWENTY-ONE YEARS LATER.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, admiring the strong young woman who stares back at me.

Today is my twenty-first birthday, and my parents have decided they want to celebrate it with all their corporate friends and close confidants.

I usually feel like an outcast at large gatherings or in crowded places. I am the awkward girl in the corner of the room who has been sipping the same drink for three hours while watching everyone else enjoy themselves.

I turn to the side, drinking in my reflection as I take note of how well the gown fits my body.

It savagely clings to every generous curve the Gods have blessed me with. The silver gown that sparkles under the light heightens the sapphire blue irises in my eyes.

I have my mother's red hair and my father's eyes, but somehow I have inherited my Aunt Ana's spitfire tongue.

FOR ONCE, my mother has picked something for me that doesn't make me feel like I am too overly dressed; something that will draw too