SASHA.
Three gowns.
Three different ankara gowns, and not a single one made me feel like a sane person.
I stood in front of the mirror with my hands on my hips, frowning at my reflection. This was the third outfit I’d tried on, and I still hated it. It was bright orange and puffy at the bottom, and somehow managed to be tight and awkwardly loose in all the wrong places. It made my shoulders look broad, and it made my legs feel exposed. And my small frame seemed to be swallowed by it. All the dresses were that way.
Besides, who wears orange on purpose?
The puffed hem bounced every time I shifted my weight. I didn't like it. I had my hair packed in a simple bun. It was the one thing I was happy about, my curls slowly coming back.
‘It fits you,’ Ash said gently. ‘And you look beautiful.
