I took a deep breath, my hands trembling slightly as they clutched the golden frame of the mirror. The heavy red and gold lehenga felt like poetry stitched onto my skin. Each thread told a story. Each gem was a silent witness to the chaos I had walked through. The dupatta rested over my head like a crown. My kohl-lined eyes stared back at me, but it was hard to recognize the girl in the mirror. She wasn’t the broken, bruised version of me anymore.