Destiny's POV
"Do you really think it's okay for me to wear this?" I asked Lela for the fifth time, and I half-expected her to lose patience with me. But she didn't. She simply smiled, calm and reassuring, as if she understood every hesitation written across my face.
"Red gave that to you," she said gently, her gaze meeting mine in the mirror. "Of course it's okay. In fact, I think he'd be overjoyed to see you wearing it."
I turned my eyes back to my reflection. The dress hugged my frame delicately, the soft material falling in waves that felt both unfamiliar and oddly comforting. It wasn't just the dress itself—it was what it represented. A gesture of thoughtfulness. A piece of hope.
And though my face was still marked with the same scars—etched reminders of a past I couldn't escape—something inside me had changed. After meeting Red again... I wasn't the same woman who had spent so long hiding in the shadows of her pain.
