THE YELLOW DRESS~ANYA POV~The balcony looked out onto a pretty garden that someone had clearly taken good care of for a long time. Roses grew on trellises and lavender was planted in neat rows, making the air smell nice when the wind blew. I sat in a metal chair with my feet tucked under me, a book on my lap, but I hadn't actually read any of it for twenty minutes.The yellow dress was in the closet when I woke up. It had flowers on it, fit me well at the top, and the skirt ended just below my knees. It looked fancy, like the kind of style French women have. I wore it because my old clothes from Porto were packed away somewhere and wearing César's gifts felt like the path of least resistance.I hated that it fit perfectly.Hated that when I looked in the mirror I saw someone who looked healthy, who looked rested, who looked like a woman living a good life instead of a captive plotting her escape.My hair had grown out over the months of hiding, the cheap dye I'd been using to ke
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