***
I change into the outfit slowly. Piece by piece. Like armor made of glitter and stubbornness.
The fabric sits comfortably against my skin. The sparkles catch the light as I move, throwing tiny prisms across the walls. I secure the last piece, adjust the fit, and turn to the mirror.
For the first time in weeks, I don't see a problem to manage or a woman who walked away too soon.
I see someone who hasn't given up.
Quinn appears behind me, her own outfit just as loud but with a completely different color scheme. She tosses me my sparkly bag.
"Last day," she says. "Let's make it count."
I don't know what Arthur is going to say when we finally speak. I don't know if this ends in heartbreak or forgiveness.
But for the first time since I left that house, I know one thing for sure—
I'm not done claiming what I want.
