31 The Dress That Didn’t Belong to Me 2

Nyra’s POV

The cream fabric caught the light like it had been made for candlelit halls and careful hands. The neckline was simple but elegant. The waist fitted in a way that made me look… grown. The skirt fell in soft folds that didn’t cling, didn’t beg, didn’t apologise.

I looked like a woman.

Not a servant.

Not an outcast.

Not an Omega who had spent her day in the garden with dirt under her nails and shame under her skin.

My throat tightened so fast it felt like it might close.

Because the girl in the mirror looked like she belonged somewhere warm.

Somewhere safe.

And I didn’t.

The contrast hit like grief.

My mother leaned in close, her voice a whisper meant only for me.

“You look like a goddess, sweetheart.”

The words landed too hard, too tender.

My eyes stung instantly. I blinked fast, swallowing the feeling back down because she had worked too carefully on the make-up for me to ruin it with tears. My lashes trembled anyway.

“You look beautiful too, Mother,” I managed.

It was true.