White had never been my color.

I looked at myself in the triptych mirror at the Atelier Pronovias boutique on Serrano Street.

The reflection showed me the image of an immaculate virgin. Silk, Chantilly lace, a three-meter train... everything designed to scream purity, innocence, and new beginnings.

I felt a wave of nausea.

"It's magnificent, Miss Rojo," said the designer, a thin man with horn-rimmed glasses who was hovering around me adjusting the hem. "The drape is perfect. You look... angeli