Mira was fuming, her anger simring just below the surface. The laughter of those who saw her fall echoed in her ears, each chuckle a reminder of the humiliating scene that had played out just earlier.
She could still see the image of the heavy middle-aged man sprawled awkwardly on top of her, a blend of confusion and embarrassnt washing over her whenever the mory surfaced. It felt as if she’d been trapped in a surreal mont that had turned her life into a codic nightmare.
Determined to feel better, Mira decided to shop for new clothes.
Ard with an idea, she and her friends set out to find new clothes or vibrant bolts of fabric that a skilled tailor could shape into sothing uniquely hers, sothing that would help her feel more confident and empowered.
As she entered her favorite clothes shop, she was greeted by a crisp, dry, almost papery scent with grassy and woody notes of linen and the earthy, mineral-like sll of clothes and dye. Her heart raced as she scanned the racks, envisioning the potential of each piece. This place was her sanctuary, where colors danced and patterns played, and she could almost forget the ridicule of the people from earlier.
But then, just as she was about to lose herself in the magic of the mont, her gaze landed on a familiar figure. Her brother stood there, rifling through a selection of fabrics, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. A mix of shock and confusion washed over her. What on earth was he doing here, surrounded by bolts of fabric and patterns typically reserved for won?
"Brother, what are you doing here?" she asked, her voice a blend of surprise and curiosity. The question lingered as she looked around but did not find Lara.
"Oh, that. I accompanied your sister." Pererdur replied casually.
Mira blinked. "My sister?" she echoed, incredulous.
Peredur turned, the bolt of sapphire silk still in his hands, and gave her a lopsided grin. "Well, your sister, too, technically. Lara dragged in here. She insisted I help her choose a color for her dress for a formal event, as she only had one."
"Where is Lara? Why is she not around?" Mira’s jaw tightened slightly. She was jealous of Lara. Since they were little, she had always heard complints about her—perfect, graceful, impossibly polished Lara. Mira folded her arms, her earlier surge of motivation now tinged with irritation.
"There she is," Alia pointed to the woman who had just erged from the changing room.
Everyone in the shop seed to pause.
Lara wore a flowing light blue dress that shimred with each step she took. It hugged her waist and fell like a waterfall of light around her ankles. Her brown hair was swept back in a loose braid, and the sunlight filtering through the window touched her skin like a kiss. She looked radiant.
And Mira felt invisible all over again and envious, too.
Peredur gave a low whistle. "Now that’s going to turn heads."
Lara twirled lightly, laughing. "It’s nice, isn’t it? Peredur, what do you think? Not too much?" Lara’s voice was teasing.
Mira swallowed hard. She pasted on a smile and answered on behalf of Peredur. "No, it’s perfect."
Lara turned to Mira then, seemingly noticing her for the first ti. "Oh! Mira—I didn’t see you there. Are you shopping too?"
"Yes," Mira replied, her voice flat. "Sothing new."
Lara tilted her head, as if trying to recall what Mira might need new clothes for. She smiled again, politely, and turned back to the mirror. "It’s important to feel like your best self," she said, adjusting the neckline. "Especially with all these nobles around lately. Who knows who you’ll run into?"
Mira’s hands clenched slightly at her sides. She had the sudden, absurd urge to rip a bolt of crimson velvet in half.
"Yeah, right. That’s why I am here to shop, to look my best." Mira said tightly. "Just for ."
Peredur stepped forward, sensing the shift in her tone. "What are you looking for, Mira? Maybe I can help."
She hesitated. Then, defiance blood in her chest. "I want sothing bold. Not sweet, not subtle—bold. I want a dress that makes people stare. One that says I’m not so fragile flower they can shove aside and forget."
Lara raised a brow in the mirror. She could sense the resentnt in her voice, but said nothing.
Peredur blinked in surprise—then grinned. "Now that’s more like it. Let’s make you unforgettable."
And for the first ti since the accident at Edesia Ktichedn, Mira smiled for real.
Mira crossed her arms over her chest as Lara twirled once more in front of the gilded mirror, the dress catching the light of the sunbeam. Everyone nearby paused to admire her—custors, attendants, even Peredur. Mira felt herself shrinking in its shadow, like a dull ornant beside a blazing chandelier.
"You don’t think it’s too flashy?" Lara asked, smoothing her hands down the cloth. "I an, I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard."
"You don’t have to try at all," Mira muttered, unable to help herself.
Lara turned her head sharply. "What’s that supposed to an?"
Peredur glanced between them, his brow twitching with unease, but he said nothing.
Mira shrugged, feigning indifference. "Just that everything always seems to fall into place for you. The perfect dress, the perfect event, the perfect timing. It must be exhausting always to be flawless."
Lara blinked. Was Mira talking about the past that she had no mory of at all? "Flawless? What do you an by that?" She asked in confusion. "I have lost my mory, rember?"
Mira suddenly had an idea. "I’m not the one who knocked over the wine table at that party. But with just a few words from you, the bla fell on ."
Lara frowned. She couldn’t believe that the original Lara would do sothing like that.
"And sohow, everyone felt sorry for you." Mira continued bitterly.
Lara’s jaw tightened. "I didn’t ask for anyone’s pity."
"That’s rich—coming from soone who changes her whole personality depending on who’s watching," Mira shot back, stepping closer.
Lara’s eyes narrowed, exuding an aura that caused Mira to pause. Lara bridged the gap between them.
"Just because I lost my mory, do you think you can manipulate into believing your lies?" Lara asked coldly.
The shop had fallen awkwardly silent around them. One of the attendants cleared her throat from behind a rack, pretending not to eavesdrop while hanging on every word.
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