Angie Faith Pov -

But whose dream?

You are Angie Faith, I whisper to the dripping girl in the mirror. You are the dream. angie faith pov

In the darkness of the bedroom, I slide back under the covers. The mattress dips. He rolls over instinctively, his arm finding my waist, pulling the static of the world away. But whose dream

The Weight of the Crown

This is the real performance. Not the sold-out arena. Not the red carpet. It’s the act of letting myself be held when I feel like shattering. It’s believing, for eight hours of darkness, that I am just Angie. In the darkness of the bedroom, I slide

I dry my face with a towel that smells like lavender, not like the stale champagne and smoke clinging to my dress from last night’s gala. I pad barefoot across the cold floor, leaving the bright, harsh truth of the bathroom behind.