All Chapters of I was more than pretty: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

I said goodbye to Mom at the door.She kissed my cheek, her hand lingering on my shoulder as if she were memorizing me — the warmth of my skin, the shape of this moment.“You’ve got this,” she whispered, her voice steady but her eyes betraying her. Pride and worry lived there together, the way they always do in mothers.I nodded, though a part of me wanted to tell her the truth — that I’d already lived this day once before. Instead, I smiled, tightened the strap of my bag, and stepped into the light.The drive felt shorter than memory allowed. Maybe because my mind was already ahead of me — walking the corridors, smelling the faint blend of coffee and fabric dye, hearing the quiet buzz of nerves that comes with the start of something big.By the time I reached Parsons, the sun had climbed high, scattering gold across the glass façade. The air carried that late-summer crispness, sharp enough to make me pull my blazer tighter.The courtyard pulsed with motion — workers clutching folders,

The whispers started before I even turned my head.They weren’t about me anymore.No one cared that Evelyn Morgan was sitting alone at the corner table, eating her lunch in silence.Now, all they cared about was him.“Is that Julian Vale?” someone breathed.“The director of Parsons?”“Oh my God, he’s even better in person.”“He’s so handsome.”“Any woman with him must be happy.”The air shifted before I saw him.It always did.There was a certain tension that followed Julian everywhere—an awareness that seemed to tighten the space around him. The laughter around the courtyard softened. The women straightened their spines, tucked stray hair behind their ears, adjusted the collars of their blouses.I kept eating.A salad. No dressing. Just greens and tomatoes, a slice of lemon resting on the side.I didn’t need to impress anyone. Not him. Not them. Not even myself.Once upon a time, I was the woman who smiled every time his name appeared on her phone. The woman who would cancel dinner wi

The women’s restroom at the end of the hallway was empty when I slipped inside. I locked a stall, pressed my back against the cold metal, and closed my eyes. The silence felt like mercy.Breathe in.Breathe out.But the air still carried her face — Mrs. Vale’s — like smoke that wouldn’t clear. I could almost hear the sharp click of her heels echoing down the corridor, that voice she used like a blade, cutting without effort or hesitation.The way she’d once looked at me — like I was something she’d stepped in.And then the memory came, uninvited: the burn, the oil, the sting that crawled across my skin. I could still feel the panic, still see the bathroom tiles from that night — the ones I’d stared at while I wrapped my hand in gauze, shaking, terrified to go to a hospital.“They’ll ask questions,” Julian had said. “Just let it heal.”As if I could heal everything.A knock sounded against the stall door. My body went still.“Evelyn?”Serena’s voice. Sweet. Soft. Like she hadn’t just wa

EVELYN’S POVThe orientation ended the way everything at Parsons did — with quiet efficiency.No nervous laughter. No lingering chatter. Just a final briefing in a glass-walled conference room, a round of polite applause, and the slow, orderly migration of new hires toward the elevators.Suits. Tote bags. Designer flats clicking in rhythm against marble floors.Phones lit up as emails arrived: Welcome to Parsons. Your access badge will be ready Monday at 9 A.M.Three days. That was all that stood between the introductions and the real work. Between being new and becoming invisible.The senior staff had already retreated to their offices — heads down, earbuds in, their movements carrying the ease of people who knew their worth. Some offered quick glances at us, the fresh recruits, eyes skimming with mild curiosity. Most didn’t look at all.At Parsons, visibility was currency. And you had to earn it.I adjusted the strap of my tote — structured black leather, no logo — and walked toward

I didn’t rush that evening. The city outside my window glowed against the fading light, every building humming with quiet life as I sat with a glass of water in my hand. My reflection flickered faintly in the glass — calm, deliberate, different. For once, I wasn’t waiting for something to go wrong. I was waiting to prove that I had changed.Tonight wasn’t about the new clothes or the sleek haircut. It was about the shift inside me — the quiet, steady certainty that I was no longer the woman Serena could control.In another life, I had walked into that same restaurant afraid. I’d worn a simple dress, smiled too brightly, laughed too hard, and convinced myself that being small was the safest way to survive. But smallness had never saved me. It had only made it easier for them to forget I was there.Now, everything felt different. I wasn’t nervous. I wasn’t rehearsing apologies in my head. I was patient, like a lion crouched behind tall grass — still, alert, waiting for the perfect moment