Charlotte's POV
"You look so beautiful, Charlotte," Cecily breathed, her voice tinged with pride as she stood behind me, hands on her hips, admiring her work.
I turned slightly, taking in my reflection in the full-length mirror. She wasn't wrong. I barely recognized myself.
I had asked her to do my hair and makeup—something soft, something simple. But this was Cecily. Of course, she overdid it, as she always did when it came to me. And as usual, she'd managed to make it work in a way only she could. My hair had been swept up into an elegant twist, strands cascading delicately down my shoulders like silk. My makeup was subtle but flawless, drawing out the warmth in my eyes and the natural glow in my cheeks.
And the dress…
The dress hugged my figure perfectly, the fabric flowing around me like water, shimmering faintly beneath the soft lighting of the room. It made me feel like I belonged in a dream—ethereal, poised, and for once, completely seen.
