Zayne’s POV
“Couldn’t you at least add some colors to your dressing today,” Sienna muttered, eyes flicking over me through the mirror, “instead of looking like a sadist?”
I watched her from the chair by the wall as the stylist crouched to secure the thin strap of her heel. Crystal chandeliers hovered overhead like frozen light. White drapes swallowed the room. Everything was supposed to be beautiful.
I exhaled slowly. I didn’t tell her the real reason.
I hadn’t worn my contacts today.
Sienna knew I was colorblind without them. Knows I can’t see properly, can’t separate shades, can’t tell what bleeds into what. But she didn’t know that I’d ripped them out in anger a few days ago, back at home, stormed out before my hands stopped shaking.
Forgot to fix them back in. Or maybe I didn’t f
