Blanche's POV
The next morning, I wrapped up my early shift.
Amara swung by to collect me, dragging me off for a complete makeover. Running late, the makeup artist worked quickly, keeping everything sleek and simple.
Amara picked out a white strapless gown that hugged my body perfectly. The fabric flowed down to my ankles, hiding my legs completely, but the fitted bodice left just enough skin exposed to catch attention.
Even after having Carry, my figure hadn't lost its appeal—my curves were pronounced, my waist narrow and enticing.
Once I was fully transformed—flawless makeup, killer heels—Amara just stared at me.
"Blanche, you look absolutely incredible. Zain doesn't deserve someone like you," Amara linked her arm through mine, teasing.
I stared at my reflection, almost not recognizing myself.
After years of marriage to Zain, he'd never once brought me to a party or gala. I'd barely dressed up like this in years.
