Betty’s POV

Something inside me had gone cold after he left.

The crying stopped at some point. The humiliation still sat heavy in my chest, but it no longer burned the same way. It felt numb now, almost empty. This was my life, I couldn't complain.

By the time the stylist arrived, I barely spoke. I simply sat there and let strangers touch me. Someone fixed my hair into soft waves while another worked carefully on my makeup, covering every trace of the breakdown from earlier. The concealer ...