Racheal stood in their closet with Steffan deciding on what to wear.

It felt good to not have anything to hide anymore, to not be dying of anxiety.

“I remember watching you in this at that nightshow.” Steffan said, reaching from behind her to touch a blue blazer.

She smiled at the memory, till she remembered that Madame Dalloz had gotten her that.

She had encouraged her to go to the show and sent a stylist over with options of clothes to wear.

She sighed, and looked away. ...