DAYS AFTER

Isabelle’s POV

There was something oddly vulnerable about standing in front of a mirror, half-dressed and alone.

No press. No Stephanie.

No war to fight.

Just me. And the woman I hadn’t seen clearly in years.

I reached for the lipstick on the edge of my vanity table and hesitated.

Red?

It felt too bold. Too loud. Like a statement I wasn’t sure I wanted to make tonight.

Still, I applied it slowly, watching as it framed my face in a way that almost made me feel like a ...