Two weeks later, Bella stood in the middle of her bedroom, staring at herself in the mirror like the reflection might suddenly offer reassurance but it didn't.
She adjusted the neckline of her dress for the third time, then smoothed her palms down the fabric again, even though it was already perfect. Soft, modest and thoughtfully chosen.
The kind of dress you wore when you wanted to look like you belonged somewhere without trying too hard to prove it. Her stomach fluttered anyway.
In the living room, Timothy's voice floated down the hallway, bright and impatient.
"Mommy! Are you ready now?"
Bella closed her eyes briefly and exhaled. "I'm coming," she called back, though she didn't move right away.
