Athena stood before the mirror, staring at the reflection that almost didn't feel like her.
The woman staring back was ethereal—a vision wrapped in silk and moonlight. The gown was a masterpiece of understated elegance: ivory satin that hugged her figure before spilling into a soft train, the bodice detailed with lace embroidery that shimmered faintly under the golden light.
A delicate off-shoulder neckline framed her collarbones, leaving her shoulders bare, while a thin diamond chain glinted at her throat—subtle, graceful, regal. Her hair was gathered in soft waves, pinned at one side with a cluster of white blossoms.
For a moment, she simply stared—at the way the gown curved, how the lights played across its surface, how poised she appeared. She should have felt joy, or excitement. Instead, there was an ache deep in her chest, a strange awareness that she was walking into a life mechanically constructed for her.
Still, it was beautiful. The image was beautiful.
