YELENA

“I told you to get ready hours ago. Do you want us to arrive at midnight?” I frowned, leaning against the doorframe as Nyra struggled with the zipper at her back.

“It’s not my fault I didn’t see this dress earlier,” she retorted, her face scrunched in frustration. I sighed and walked toward her.

“Let me,” I muttered. She dropped her hands with a defeated sigh. She’d been stubborn about us wearing similar dresses tonight. I didn’t understand why. We weren’t twins. ...