Esme—POV
I step out of the shower to get ready for the day. Wrapped in a towel, I walk past the mirror and pause, catching a glimpse of myself. I've gained weight now; my body doesn't look like it clings to the bones now.
The past echoes of Baredon estate maids ring in my head."She looks sick. I wonder how she's even alive,"
I study my skin—it's smooth, unmarked. The scars from the whippings are gone, as if they never existed. I used to cherish those scars; they were proof of everything I survived. Now, the absence of them feels strange, like losing a part of myself. I used to stand here and see the ghost of my mother's sad eyes and gentle smile in the reflection. Her voice echoes softly in my head: "You are stronger, Esme." Tears sting my eyes.
