It always belonged to him.
To Mason.
The same tone, the same dull gold that made people pause and say,Oh, you must be siblings. You look just like him.
Even our birthdays were the same.
We weren’t even twins, for goodness sake. Just horrid luck.
And I hated it. I hated how I was never just Addie.
AlwaysMason’s sister.
And I think I let that be true for longer than I care to admit.
So when Lilia dips the brush into the bowl, dark dye dripping like ink, and pulls the first section of my hair taut, I don’t flinch. Not once.
“I still think this is impulsive,” she mutters under her breath.
“Good,” I murmur. “It’s about time I was.”
By the time we finish rinsing, my hands are trembling slightly from the cold. Lilia towel-dries my hair with too much enthusiasm, muttering something about “dramatic transformations” under her breath.
Then she steps back, eyes narrowing as she studies me.
“Well?” I ask.
Lilia tilts her head, lips quirking. “What I think, Addie. Is that you finally look like yourself.”
And when I glance at the mirror, at the girl staring back with wet, freshly dyed, dark brown hair, I think… maybe I do.
Maybe for the first time, I actually do.
“I love it,” I whisper.
Lilia smiles, her eyes soft. “Good. You should.”
She disappears for a second, then reappears with an armful of clothes and an unnecessarily serious expression.
“Okay,” she says, dumping the pile on the bed just outside the closet. “Time for phase two.”
“Phase two?”
“The showcase. The party. Youdoremember we’re still going, right?”
I blink. “Oh, right.”
Lilia groans, dragging me back into the closet. “I told you already. Everyone dresses up for this. It’s like a thing. Last day of school, big ballet performance in the theatre, Christmas party at Steele House after. The outfits are theevent, Addie.”
She spins toward the clothing rack and flips through hangers with laser precision, muttering to herself. “This one,” she saysfinally, pulling a dress off the hanger and handing it to me like it’s sacred. “This is the one.”
I stare at it.
It’s silk, backless and a deep wine-red. In short, it’s utterly stunning.
“Lilia…” I trail off, staring. “That’s—there’s no back.”
“Exactly,” she says, eyes gleaming. “It’s drama, it’s confidence, it’syou, whether you realize it yet or not.”
