The car rolled past tall iron gates and into a long driveway lined with golden trees. The estate before Aria looked like it had been plucked from a storybook—grand, elegant, with glass windows reflecting the early evening sky. It didn't look like home. It looked like a painting she wasn't allowed to touch.
As the door opened, servants rushed forward to take bags and open doors. Aria hesitated before stepping out. She held her small bag tightly—her only connection to the life she had just left behind.
Her mother gently touched her arm. "Come, sweetheart. This is your home now."
Aria followed, her steps careful and small.
Inside, the house smelled like lavender and polished wood. The floors shined so brightly she could see her reflection. A grand chandelier hung above a staircase that curled like a ribbon toward the upper floors.
Her aunt greeted her in the hallway with a warm smile and pulled her into a soft embrace. "Welcome, darling. We've waited so long for this day."
They didn't force her to speak. They simply guided her upstairs, into a bright, spacious room. It had tall windows, white curtains, a soft ivory bed, and a wardrobe so large it looked like it belonged in a boutique.
"Your room," her mother said gently. "Only the beginning."
Later that afternoon, her mother and aunt swept her away into a flurry of shopping. Aria barely spoke, still trying to process everything—but her eyes lit up as they stepped into the city's most elegant boutique.
Rows upon rows of gowns, shoes, handbags, and glistening jewelry lined the store.
The saleswoman approached, bowing slightly. "Princess Aria. It's an honor."
Aria blinked, startled.
Her aunt laughed softly. "Get used to that, love."
But as they began picking clothes for her, something changed.
Aria slowly walked along the racks, her fingers gently grazing fabrics. She reached for a soft mauve chiffon dress and held it against her frame.
"This one… with nude heels. Gold jewellery. Hair tied low," she said quietly, more to herself than anyone else.
Her mother raised her brows.
Then Aria picked a navy blue off-shoulder gown. "This one needs silver. Not gold. Hair loose. Maybe a little smoky eye."
Her aunt turned to her, surprised. "You have quite the eye."
Then came shoes. Accessories. Hair ideas.
Even the saleswoman looked amazed. "You've never had personal styling lessons?"
Aria shrugged. "No. I just… see it."
Her mother looked at her like she was seeing her for the first time.
And for a moment—for the first time since the airport—Aria smiled.
Only a little.
Only for a second.
But it was enough to light the entire room.
---
.
Scene: Like She Stepped Out of Heaven
The boutique's private lounge glowed with soft golden light. Mirrors lined the walls, and the velvet seating sparkled under the warm crystal chandeliers. Dresses in every shade hung around the room, and silver racks overflowed with jewelry and heels like treasures waiting to be claimed.
Aria sat on a low stool, legs crossed, running her fingers across the hem of a pale pearl gown she'd just rejected.
Her mother stood nearby, watching her daughter with awe and a smile that was slowly replacing the years of sorrow etched in her heart.
Suddenly, Aria turned, her eyes gleaming.
> "Maa," she said, using the word a little awkwardly but sweetly. "You should try one."
Her mother blinked. "Me?"
> "Yes. You brought me here. Let me pick something for you now."
She chuckled. "I'm too old for these things—"
> "No, you're not," Aria said firmly. "You're beautiful. You just need the right gown."
Without waiting, she got up and walked to a section of emeralds and midnight blues.
After a moment of scanning, she stopped in front of a deep sapphire gown—long-sleeved, with intricate silver beading at the waist and sleeves, flowing into a velvet mermaid-cut train.
She brought it over like a sacred offering. "This one. Wear this one."
Her mother hesitated but eventually gave in to the sparkle in Aria's eyes.
When she returned from the fitting room, her aunt gasped. Aria's jaw dropped.
> "Wait—stay right there," Aria whispered, dashing toward the accessories.
She picked silver drop earrings, a crystal-studded clutch, and a delicate diamond bracelet. Then she gently adjusted her mother's hair—soft waves over one shoulder—and dusted her cheeks with a bit of natural pink blush from the boutique's vanity station.
When she stepped back…
Her mother didn't recognize herself in the mirror.
And neither did anyone else.
She looked regal. Ethereal. Like a woman who had never been broken. Like a queen who had just stepped out of the stars.
> "You look like you just walked out of heaven," Aria said quietly.
Her mother turned to her, eyes misty. "So do you, my little princess."
They both smiled. And in that moment, for the first time in years, they didn't feel like strangers trying to rebuild a bond.
They felt like mother and daughter—soft, real, glowing.