Selina was already awake by seven a.m. the next morning, sitting at her dressing desk as she prepared for work. She carefully layered her makeup, drawing her brows thick and heavy, swallowing the natural arch. Faint brown shadows were brushed beneath her eyes, dulling their brightness into tired hollows.
A fake mole was placed with precision just under her lip, like a delicate accent. She coated her lips with a sharp, garish red lipstick, burying the softness that had once mirrored her late mother's allure.
When she finally leaned back, the mirror reflected not a young woman with quiet beauty, but a forgettable face—plain enough to pass unnoticed, exactly as she intended. Her dulled and unattractive appearance ensured that people would barely give her a second glance. For Selina, this was protection against those still hunting her.
Her lips curved into a quiet, radiant smile as she adjusted her shirt.
