Chapter 3: A Symbol Of Hope
I didn’t sleep, but I must have blacked out again, because when I blinked, Luc was already standing at the foot of the bed I didn’t remember lying down in.
Where am I even? I thought I was sitting on my throne earlier. There’s a bed in the office too?
Luc didn’t comment on my confusion. She held out a suit that was black, high-collared, and tailored so sharply it could cut air. Without a word, she laid it on the edge of the mattress.
"I’m not wearing that," I muttered, sitting up slowly.
"It’s the expected color of grief," she said without looking at me.
"I’m not grieving."
"I know."
That should’ve felt like comfort. It didn’t.
The outfit fit well. Actually, it fit too perfectly as if someone knew every inch of measurement of my body. When I looked in the mirror, I didn’t see myself. I saw a silhouette that I became.
Luc stepped behind me and adjusted the collar with a light and careful touch. There was something almost tender about it, like a tailor.
I didn’t speak. I didn’t want to hear what my voice would sound like in this costume.