The first time looking in the mirror and I didn't recognize myself. I had finally began to live.
The girl who stared back at me wasn't quiet, timid, or forgettable. Her lips was a glossy, blood-red curve of defiance. Her almond eyes lined sharp and thick, no longer hiding their fire behind glasses. She wore a black velvet dress that hugged her curves like it was made for sin — low-cut, backless, slitted high at the thigh.
It was the kind of dress my sister Erica would wear. The kind of dress that gets you attention without asking.
I wanted that attention.
I leaned in and ran my fingers through my thick, dark curls, letting them fall to one side of my shoulder. My collarbone gleamed under the soft glow of the vanity lights. My skin, honey-brown and smooth, glistened with a hint of body oil. For the first time in years, I didn't feel invisible.
I felt… real.
Alive.
"Damn," I whispered to myself, and smiled.
My phone buzzed.
Erica: Hurry the fuck up. Jace is waiting. Don't embarrass me tonight, Mia.
Of course.
The golden couple. Erica and Jace. Everyone adored them — California's hottest model and the NBA's rising star. They were perfect, flawless and fake as hell.
I stuffed the phone into my purse and stood tall, my heels clicking against the marble tiles of the hallway as I left the bedroom. The thompson mansion gleamed with cold wealth from the floor to ceiling windows, abstract art, fashion magazine clippings in crystal frames but none of it ever felt like home.
Erica stood at the bottom of the stairs, posing with one hand on her hip, her lips pursed like she was in a photoshoot. Her dark blue sequined gown shimmered under the chandelier. She looked up at me with that tight, fake smile she wore so well.
"There you are," she said sweetly, but her eyes narrowed. "I was starting to think you chickened out."
"I'm here, aren't I?" I replied, my voice smooth.
She walked toward me, her perfume choking but expensive.
"You actually look… decent," she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for me to hear. "Don't let that dress fool you, though. Jace still sees you as the whore that you are." She said waiting to get a reaction from me.
I won't let her get to me. Not this time.
"Thanks, Erica," I replied calmly. "But we both know you're more of a whore than I am. And I'm not here to eat your leftovers."
Her bitchy smile dropped, just enough to satisfy the little part of me that had started to enjoy pushing back.
"Fix your face. I don't have all the time in the world to waste on your tantrums." Feeling proud of myself, I walked out to the front of the mansion where tour ride will be.
The driver pulled up in the matte black town car, and Jace stepped out, wearing a deep blue tux to match with his bitch. I shouldn't be staring but it fitted him a little bit too well.
His smirk curved as soon as he spotted Erica, but it slipped when his eyes flicked over to me.
Something passed between us. Something hot. Something unholy.
His gaze dipped lower to my hips, my legs, the way the dress clung to me. And for the first time in a long time, he didn't look away like he usually did.
He cleared his throat. "You look… different, Mia."
"She's just dressing up for attention," Erica said, locking her arm through his and dragging him toward the car. "Don't get too excited."
He didn't respond. But his eyes stayed on me as the door shut.
I enter a different car, not wanting them to ruin my mood.
---
The charity gala was filled with the usual, influencers, fashion moguls, photographers, people who drank expensive champagne and wore diamond smiles.
Isaiah my stepdad was already inside, mingling with designers. His fashion label had donated a ridiculous amount tonight. While my mom, Bianca, wasn't here, of course. She never came to events. Never did interviews. No one even knew what she looked like — a ghost author hiding behind a stand-in.
It was strange. But then again, most of my life was.
I drifted toward the edge of the ballroom, away from Erica and Jace, and found a small balcony. The air outside was cool, the city below glowing like something out of a dream.
"Mia?" a voice came from behind me.
I turned. Isaiah.
He smiled gently, holding a glass of scotch. "Didn't think I'd see you here tonight."
"I almost didn't come," I admitted. "But I figured… new year, new me."
He chuckled. "You look stunning. Really. Your mother would be proud."
I forced a smile. "Is she okay?"
Isaiah's expression shifted — only slightly, but it was obvious.
"She's fine," he said quickly. "Just working on another book. You know how she gets."
I didn't press. But something about his voice felt… rehearsed.
He raised his glass. "To new beginnings, Mia. You've earned it.
I clinked my glass to his, even though I wasn't drinking.
Back inside, Erica was laughing too loud, clinging too tightly to Jace's arm. He looked bored. His gaze wandered. And when it landed on me again, I turned away.
I shouldn't bother about him.
This was about me.
Because for 21 years, I lived in Erica's shadow and was invisible to everyone, chasing after love that was never mine. I made myself into someone small, quiet, pleasing. But not anymore.
Now, I would do what made me happy.
I would live my life to the fullest.
Be free.
And let go of love.
At least, that's what I told myself.
But as I stood on that balcony, the city at my feet, a strange pull began to stir in my chest something I can't place a finger on.
Like a storm waiting to wash me away.