After a long, hot shower, I stand in front of the mirror, debating whether to go for effortlessly chic or elegantly polished. Eventually, I settle on both. My hair falls in loose curls, framing my face with just the right amount of I woke up like this sophistication.

Thanks to Serena’s outrageously expensive wardrobe, I have options. I select a soft pink gown with a high slit that whispers elegance while screaming, ‘I’m thriving’ even though my bank account says otherwise. I pair it with simple diamond earrings—just enough sparkle to say classy, but not trying too hard.

As I take one final look in the mirror, something unexpected happens—a flicker of confidence blooms inside me. My dress hugs every curve and complements my deep brown skin like it was made for me.

I feel powerful.

I remember the days I was trapped in a loveless marriage, drowning in self-doubt, questioning my worth. I truly forgot how beautiful I was. How strong I was. But those moments seem like shadows of a past life.

Now, as I stand here, I recognize myself for who I am, who I always was—the best, the baddest, the most beautiful, the most capable, and the most indestructible woman I’ve ever met.

Suddenly, a knock on my bedroom door jolts me from my self-affirming thoughts.

“You ready, Cinderella? Your pumpkin carriage awaits,” my mom’s voice calls out, light and teasing.

I can’t help but smile. No matter how blunt my parents are, they always know how to make me laugh, even when I don’t want to.

“I’m not sure you qualify as my fairy godmother, Mom,” I call back, slipping into my heels. “But points for enthusiasm.”

The door creaks open, and she peeks her head inside, giving me a once-over with that sharp, discerning gaze only moms have. “Fairy godmother?” she repeats with a grin. “More like the one keeping you sane while figuring out your life.”

I sigh, the moment of levity fading. “I don’t need help being an adult,” I say, trying to keep my voice firm.

She waves me off like I’ve just told her the sky is purple. “I know, I know. You’re a grown woman. Blah, blah, blah.” She steps into the room fully, hands on her hips. “Your father and I just want you to move forward in life. There’s a thin line between taking time to find yourself and fearing what you might discover when you do. Now, what the heck do we have to do to get you out of our house? I’m so tired of having boring sex.”

My mouth falls open. “Mom!”

She shrugs, unbothered. “What? It’s the truth.”

I shake my head, laughing despite myself. “You’re impossible.”