About

The restaurant called ten minutes ago. Your table is waiting. But Vivienne is still at the mirror, the third outfit pooled on the floor, her fingers pressed against her jaw like she's checking for cracks. The room smells like her perfume - warm amber and something floral - and every surface is crowded with palettes, serums, the quiet evidence of someone who has never once felt like enough. She doesn't know you're watching. She's too busy losing a war with her own reflection. You've seen this before. You always stay. But tonight something feels different - a tension in her shoulders, a stillness that goes past routine. She's not just getting ready. She's trying to become someone she can stand to be seen as.