Chapter 1 — Reflections in Gold

Emma

The gold gown shimmered under the soft glow of my bedroom’s vanity lights, each tiny sequin catching the light like a cluster of captured stars. I smoothed it down over my hips for the hundredth time, the silk fabric cool under my palms, and tilted my head to examine my reflection in the mirror. Perfect. Or as close as I could get.

My makeup was meticulously applied, every brushstroke deliberate. The soft, gold shimmer on my eyelids blended into a subtle winged liner, and my lips were painted in a rose hue that was bold without trying too hard. My chestnut waves, styled with precision, cascaded over one shoulder in soft, glossy spirals. I reached for my compact mirror—gold, of course—and gave myself one last once-over. No smudges. No stray hairs. No flaws.

The mirror’s hinge creaked as I tilted it slightly, catching faint scratches on its surface as they glinted under the light. It had been a gift from my mom last year for my birthday. “For my perfect girl,” she’d said with a smile. Back then, it had felt like a crown. Now, as I studied my reflection in its tiny frame, it felt heavier somehow, like it carried expectations I wasn’t sure I could meet.

Tonight was supposed to be the culmination of everything I’d worked so hard to be—the golden girl, the one everyone admired. Prom wasn’t just a dance; it was proof that I’d made it. I’d envisioned every detail in my head: Jason picking me up, his warm smile as he told me I looked beautiful, the way we’d walk into the gym together, turning heads. It was perfect. It had to be.

A notification pinged on my phone, breaking the spell. My stomach fluttered with anticipation as I glanced at the screen, expecting a text from Jason telling me he was on his way. Instead, it was a single message that sent my perfectly curated world crashing down:

“Hey, Emma. I think it’s better if we go to prom separately tonight. I’m taking Alyssa Lane. Sorry.”

The words blurred as my vision clouded. My breath hitched, and the compact mirror slipped from my fingers, clattering onto the vanity table with a metallic ring. The sound barely registered over the roaring in my ears.

Alyssa Lane. The Alyssa Lane. Miss perfect influencer with her millions of followers, her diamond-studded everything, and her smile that could launch a thousand sponsorships. My chest tightened as a wave of humiliation swept over me, cold and unrelenting. I could already see it—her Instagram post, the comments, the likes. Everyone would know. Everyone would see.

I stared at the message, willing it to change, to disappear, to be some kind of cruel joke. But the tiny bubble of Jason’s profile picture stared back at me, smug in its permanence. My grip on the edge of the vanity tightened. My hands shook. My breaths came too fast, shallow and uneven, until I felt lightheaded.

How could he do this? On prom night?

The mirror reflected my face, but it didn’t feel like mine anymore. My hazel eyes, wide with shock, brimmed with tears. My chestnut waves, once so carefully arranged, now seemed ridiculous. The perfect girl in the perfect dress suddenly looked like a fraud.

The door creaked open behind me, and my mom’s voice floated in. “Honey, Jason should be here any minute. Are you—” She stopped short. “Emma? What’s wrong?”

I spun to face her, the tears I’d been holding back now threatening to spill. “He’s not coming,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “He… he dumped me. For Alyssa Lane.”

Her lips parted in shock, and for a moment, she simply stood there, as if searching for the right words. Then she crossed the room and placed a steadying hand on my shoulder. “Oh, sweetheart… I’m so sorry.”

I shook my head, unable to meet her gaze. “I can’t do this. I can’t show up alone. Everyone will know. They’ll talk. They’ll laugh.”

“Emma, listen to me,” she said firmly, crouching to meet my eyes. “You’ve worked so hard for tonight. You deserve to go, with or without him.”

Her words were steady, but they felt impossibly far away. I wanted to believe her, but the thought of walking into that gym—glittering and grand, full of judgmental stares—made my stomach churn. “I can’t, Mom,” I choked out. “I just… I can’t.”

Her hand hesitated on my shoulder, her own uncertainty flashing briefly in her eyes before she nodded. “Okay. You don’t have to decide right now. Take a moment, breathe.” She squeezed my shoulder before stepping out, leaving me alone with my spiraling thoughts.

I sank onto my bed, the gown pooling around me like liquid gold. My phone buzzed again, and dread coiled in my stomach. Another message from Jason? Or worse, Alyssa? But when I glanced at the screen, it was my best friend, Harper.

“What’s taking so long, drama queen? Prom isn’t going to start itself.”

I stared at the message, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. How could I even begin to explain? My pulse pounded as I debated whether to reply or let the silence swallow me whole. Before I could overthink it, I hit the call button. She picked up on the second ring.

“Finally! I was starting to think you got swallowed by your dress or something,” Harper teased.

“Harper…” My voice cracked, and that was all it took for her tone to shift.

“What happened?” she demanded.

I swallowed hard. “Jason… he dumped me. For Alyssa Lane. I—” My voice broke again, and I pressed a hand to my mouth to stifle a sob.

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end, followed by a pause that felt like forever. “That absolute piece of—” She stopped herself, probably for my sake. “Emma, listen to me. He’s an idiot. A total, irredeemable idiot. And you know what? You don’t need him. You’re Emma freaking Calloway. You’re going to go to that prom, and you’re going to look stunning, and you’re going to show everyone that you don’t need some loser to make your night.”

I wanted to argue, to tell her that I couldn’t face everyone, that I wasn’t as strong as she thought. But Harper’s confidence in me was infectious, and somewhere deep down, I wanted to believe she was right.

“I don’t know, Harper…”

“Nope. No ‘I don’t know.’ You’re going. End of discussion. Remember last year, when you convinced me to go to the winter formal after I broke up with Pete? You said, and I quote, ‘You can either cry into your ice cream or show the world that you’re a queen.’ So, yeah. Get up. You’re going. I’ll be at your house in ten.”

She hung up before I could protest, leaving me staring at my reflection once more. My face was blotchy, my makeup smudged. I looked anything but perfect.

With a shaky breath, I grabbed a tissue and started fixing the damage. My hand trembled as I reapplied my eyeliner, the movements slower than usual. The girl in the mirror stared back at me, her hazel eyes tinged with uncertainty. “You can do this,” I whispered, trying to convince myself.

By the time Harper’s car pulled up, my makeup was back in place, and I’d slipped on my gold heels. They were slightly scuffed at the toes, a detail I usually obsessed over, but tonight I didn’t have the energy to care.

Harper honked impatiently, and I grabbed my clutch and compact mirror before heading out. She leaned out the window, her red hair glowing like a warning flare. “There she is! Ready to show the world what they’re missing?”

“Not really,” I admitted, climbing into the passenger seat.

She gave me a once-over and whistled. “Well, you look like a million bucks. Jason is going to regret this for the rest of his miserable life.”

I managed a small smile. “Thanks, Harper.”

As we drove toward Magnolia Grove High, the lights of the gymnasium came into view, twinkling like the stars I’d once thought tonight would hold. My stomach twisted with nerves, but Harper’s presence was a steady anchor.

“Remember,” she said as we pulled into the parking lot. “You’re Emma freaking Calloway. You’ve got this.”

I nodded, clutching my compact mirror tightly as we stepped out of the car. The night loomed ahead, uncertain and full of possibility.

But this time, I wasn’t entirely sure I’d let it break me.