Amelia's POV
The moment I stepped into my room, the door clicked shut behind me, sealing me away from the world outside. My father's words still echoed in my ears, his voice brimming with pride as he praised me for being the ideal daughter. The one who upheld the family's dignity.
It should have been enough. It was enough. So why did this hollow feeling linger, gnawing at the edges of my satisfaction?
I slipped off my heels, wincing as the ache in my feet reminded me of the endless hours I had spent gliding across the ballroom floor, my every move calculated to leave an impression. The heavy fabric of my dress clung to me, the heat of the evening still trapped in its folds. Crossing the room, I stood before the gilded mirror, the glow of the bedside lamp casting soft light over my reflection.
Golden waves of hair tumbled over my shoulders, and my makeup was still flawless after the long night, it accentuated every feature. I looked perfect. I always did. And yet…