Lena and I's makeovers and dress-ups had progressed over the years. It had begun with stealing Sister Agnes's powder and red lipstick from the convent bathroom, giggling under our breaths so the nuns wouldn't hear. Then came the cheap drugstore makeup in high school, bought with what we earned from working shifts that barely paid minimum wage.
Somehow, it had always felt familiar like we were growing up side by side, learning the same lessons, staying on the same page. But today felt different.
Her bedroom was a shrine to luxury now—designer bags lined the walls like trophies, and the scent of expensive perfume hung thick in the air. Rows of branded lipsticks and foundation bottles glittered across her vanity. I stood there, watching her in the mirror, and for a moment, I couldn't recognize my Lena.
She slipped into a silk dress that clung to her body perfectly, every line intentional. Her lipstick was bold, bright, the color of confidence—or maybe defiance. Her hair fell in perfect curls down her back.
Was I jealous? No, I didn't think so. I'd always believed Lena was prettier than me, even back in those unflattering uniforms we had to wear at the orphanage. Lena always looked like a star.
Even in those long, shapeless pinafore dresses that hung below our knees, she somehow made them look elegant. The boys noticed her first. They always did.
So I knew it wasn't jealousy. If anything, it was something else—a strange, heavy feeling that she had gone somewhere I couldn't follow. Maybe it was foolish of me to think Lena and I would always be on the same wavelength. That even in a crowded room, one look would still be enough for us to understand each other.
But when her phone buzzed, and a flirty smile flickered across her face as she replied to whatever it was before she looked up at me, I realized something had changed.
She didn't know what I was thinking anymore. And worse, I couldn't tell what she was thinking either.
"Star, I got the perfect dress for you," she said suddenly, bright and breathless, pulling a hanger from her closet.
She held it up against me with that same excited grin. "Try it on. You'll look gorgeous."
The dress did look gorgeous. The fabric felt smooth beneath my fingers—silk again, cool and slippery like water.
I wondered what I would look like in it. Maybe, just maybe, even I could look good in something that beautiful.
I stepped into it carefully, trying not to tug too hard at the seams. But when I reached for the zipper, it caught halfway and refused to move.
Lena frowned, tugging from behind. "Weird. I swear I got the right size."
"It's okay," I said quietly, forcing a laugh that came out thinner than I intended.
We tried again, both of us holding our breath, but the zipper wouldn't budge. Finally, she sighed, her hands falling away. "I'm so sorry, Star. I really thought it would fit."
"Oh, it's fine. It's not your fault." It's mine for being so ugly.
"Wait!" she said suddenly, her tone bright again. "I think there's one more."
She disappeared into the closet and returned with another dress—this one big and puffy, I was sure I'd only seen something in a historical movie. It looked like it'd swallow me whole.
"It'll hide everything you want to hide," she said cheerfully. "And you'll still look like the center of attention. Come on, try it."
This one zipped up perfectly. I looked at myself in the mirror, unsure of what to feel. The fabric shimmered faintly under the light. I didn't look stunning, but I looked… presentable.
That was enough. I hadn't had a new dress in ages, and part of me was still grateful.
"Hey, Lena," I murmured, adjusting the straps, "I think the foundation's a shade off. I look kind of orange. And the lipstick—it feels too red."
Her reflection stiffened in the mirror.
"What, you don't like it?" she snapped, eyes sharp now. "I did the best I could, Star. I'm not a miracle worker, you know. I think it looks good."
"Sorry, Lena," I said quickly, reaching for her hand. "I mean, I love it. Maybe I'm just not up to date with the latest makeup trends." I forced another laugh, soft and shaky.
Her mood flipped back in an instant. She smiled, bright and pleased again. "Of course, Star. I keep telling you, you need to get on social media more. You'd learn so much. I get thousands of messages from men begging for my attention, some even send me gifts."
She flipped her hair, laughing lightly. "But that doesn't really matter. Because, Star…" Her tone softened, eyes gleaming with something warm and secret. "I think I have someone I really like. He's handsome. Rich. And someone I've known for a while. I've always liked him, but I think he's finally starting to like me back."
"Isn't that wonderful, Lena?" I said with a smile, trying to sound sincere. "You know I really want you to be happy. To be with someone you love."
"You really think that, Star?" she said, tugging at my arm playfully. "He got me a car, those bags you always see, and even lets me use his Amex." She held out her hand, admiring her perfectly manicured nails. I glanced at them and wondered if it would be too much to ask her to do mine sometime.
Then she leaned closer, her eyes glinting. "The only problem is," she whispered, "he's married."
My heart stuttered, my expression caught somewhere between disgust and fear.
Then she burst out laughing. "You should've seen your face! I'm kidding. It's a joke."
I tried to laugh, but it didn't sound right. "You're terrible." Something about her laughter didn't sound like a joke.
"I mean," she continued, brushing invisible lint from her dress, "if any married man wanted me, he'd have to lose the wife first. I'm not anyone's second choi—"
Her phone rang, cutting her off. She picked it up quickly, turning away as her tone softened. "I've got to run. Work thing," she said. "I'd take you, but you'd just be stuck in the car while I deal with some last-minute crap."
"Oh," I said quietly, trying to hide the disappointment.
"Why don't you wait here?" she added, already half distracted. "I'll call a cab to take you to the event."
"I don't mind waiting in the car," I said, sitting up. My stomach twisted with that familiar anxiety—the fear of walking into a room full of people alone, of being out of place. The idea of stepping into that party without her felt impossible.
"That won't work, Star. When you get there, just call me. I'll come get you, I promise."
"No, never mind. I'll just stay home," I murmured. "This could just be like one of our makeovers. I had fun anyway."
She halted, her voice suddenly sharp. "I thought you wanted to make Adrian happy."
Her tone caught me off guard. But Lena had always played the role of big sister in my life—stern, certain, impossible to argue with.
"I do," I said softly. "I just don't know, I feel like…"
She came closer, her heels clicking against the floor, and took my hands in hers. Her perfume was heavy, the kind that lingered. "Come on, Star. You can't be like this. Don't you know how selfish that sounds? You're lucky it's me here and not Adrian. He'd be really disappointed."
"You're right. I'm sorry, Lena." I squeezed my own arms, trying to keep the apology from trembling.
"You'll be fine, Star. You always are," she said, reassuring and distant all at once. She picked up her bag again. "I really have to go, or I'll be in trouble with my boss."
She blew me a few air kisses, then disappeared through the door.
When she was gone, I turned toward the mirror. For a long moment, I just looked at myself.
And I hated how much I looked.
I waited like she told me to, but each minute made the makeup feel heavier on my skin. I wanted to wipe it off, to scrub away the foundation that made me feel like a pig dressed for someone else's part. But Lena said I looked good, and I wanted to believe her.
The cab came on time.
"It'll be okay," I mumbled to my reflection. "The whole family will be there. I have to be there too."
I kept repeating it under my breath until I got there. The venue was the company building. I hadn't been there in years, and the thought almost made me sad. This place was one of the last real connections I still had to my parents.
Walking through those halls, I could almost see my parents here years ago—maybe with me in their arms. Maybe they let me toddle beside them, holding my hands as we waited for the elevator, my father lifting me up just before the doors closed.
I could picture their smiles, the warmth in their faces as they looked at me.
Lena's phone didn't go through, even after I called five times. People in glittering gowns passed by, their perfume and laughter filling the air. Music drifted from the big hall down the corridor—the same one they used for conferences and company parties.
Maybe it was being in a place my parents had once walked that gave me the courage to keep going.
Just like they used to smile at me, I hoped Adrian would smile too when he saw me. Just like Lena had promised. Just like I had prayed and hoped.
But when the doors opened and our eyes met, I knew I was wrong. I was really wrong.