Georgia's POV
The woman staring back at me from the mirror didn't look like the same one who suffered from everything.
Her reflection shimmered under the soft glow of the vanity lights — hair perfectly curled, swept to one side, and adorned with delicate crystal pins that caught the light like tiny stars. My makeup artist had done a wonderful job, accentuating my eyes, brushing warmth onto my cheeks, and painting my lips in a rosy hue that made me look like I was glowing from the inside.
I blinked once. Then twice.
I smiled.
God, I actually looked like a bride.
The kind of bride who survived storms and still learned how to love.
My gaze drifted to the open balcony doors. The soft ocean breeze entered the room, carrying with it the scent of salt, jasmine, and sunset. The sky outside was slowly melting from gold into rose, and the waves reflected every shade of it.
