Paule turned, his eyes following her finger pointing to the grand staircase.
Anne was descending slowly, her arm entwined with Augustine's. She wore an off-shoulder dress in soft pista green. She looked like she had stepped out of a fairytale.
"She is stunning," Patricia whispered, with awe in her voice. "Don't you think?"
Bottom of Form
Paule was transfixed, unable to tear his eyes away. It was hard to believe this was the same girl he had once taken in—the frightened, starving, dirt-covered child who had been pushed around and silenced. That timid version of Anne was gone.
Now, she moved like royalty. Anne looked poised, elegant, and untouchable. Her smile lit up the room, and her eyes sparkled with a confidence he had never seen in her before.
She didn't just look pretty. She was elegant, gorgeous, like moonlight dancing on a still lake. The way she smiled, the way she looked around, and the way she took every step down that staircase was filled with quiet power and grace.
