Lyra
“You look beautiful.”
I became aware of the gown I had on when Liam said that the second he entered the room.
I swallowed.
This transformation took just two hours, and the stylists Liam sent for had done a spectacular job because the lady in the mirror looked nothing like the one who woke up every night screaming. She looked nothing like the woman crying every night. She looked different. Alive. Beautiful.
I had chosen a deep silver blue corset dress with a dipping neckline. The lower part, its skirt, flowed in soft, layered waves, and it shone like moonlight on moving water.
The stylists had curled my hair loosely and pinned a crescent-shaped silver clip on one side. My cheeks glowed, an aftereffect of the blush powder they applied, and my lips had a rose tint.
I looked stunni
