True to her word, Melody showed up at Amara's house just before seven, honking from the street like she was announcing royalty. She didn't bother waiting outside. Melody never did things halfway. She swung Amara's door open, her arms loaded with bags.
"Okay, beautiful, you're not escaping tonight. Let's go!"
Amara crossed her arms, watching Melody's whirlwind entrance with her usual calm. "You're really serious about this?"
"Dead serious." Melody grabbed Amara's wrist, already leading her toward the door. "We're getting ready at my place. I brought reinforcements. And you're not allowed to say no."
"Melody—"
"Don't even start. You promised." Melody waved off her protest like it weighed nothing. "You've hidden yourself long enough. Tonight? You show up."
The drive to Melody's apartment was filled with her fast-paced teasing and soft background music. Amara relaxed, even smiled a little. It was easy to let Melody take the wheel—literally and figuratively.
When they got there, Melody's energy took over the room. She pulled Amara to the vanity and clapped her hands.
"Right. Sit."
Amara lowered herself into the chair slowly. "You really planned this like a mission."
Melody grinned. "Oh, I've been waiting for this moment. Let's wake you up."
Her fingers moved quickly—applying a warm-toned foundation that evened out Amara's skin without hiding her natural beauty. A soft gold shimmer swept across her eyelids, just enough to catch the light, paired with a delicate winged liner that lifted her gaze. She brushed subtle blush over her cheeks and added a soft nude gloss to her lips.
Then came the hair—unraveling Amara's usual tight bun, Melody let her hair fall into soft, cascading waves that framed her face, brushing just past her shoulders.
Amara barely recognized the reflection staring back.
Her features had always been beautiful—sharp yet soft, with almond-shaped eyes and full, natural lips—but now, they stood out in a way she'd never allowed them to before.
Melody stepped back, her arms crossed, proud like she'd just created art. "Oh, you're dangerous tonight."
"I don't even… is this really me?" Amara whispered, turning her head side to side.
"This has always been you," Melody said gently. "You just forgot."
Then Melody disappeared into her room and returned with a deep emerald green satin dress, its fabric shimmering slightly under the soft lights. It hugged Amara's figure in the right places, cinching perfectly at the waist and flowing down just above her knees.
The neckline was soft but flattering, curving around her collarbones and revealing just enough to hold attention without begging for it.
Amara slipped it on, her breath catching as she took herself in. The woman in the mirror looked… alive. Present. She didn't look like someone who wanted to blend in anymore.
Melody came behind her, resting her chin on Amara's shoulder. "You're glowing. Heads will turn tonight."
"Mel, I don't know…"
"You don't have to know. Just trust me."
Amara smoothed her hands over the dress, still caught between disbelief and quiet amazement. "Thank you."
Melody's smirk widened. "Just don't fall in love tonight, okay? I'd hate to fight anyone."
Amara actually laughed—a soft, rare sound.
When they arrived at the club, Amara hesitated just outside the entrance. The music pulsed, the crowd hummed, and the lights painted the walls in neon blues and soft golds. She almost turned back.
But Melody, ever the anchor, looped their arms together. "Come on. You promised."
As they walked in, the reaction was instant.
Heads turned.
It wasn't subtle, either.
A few men stopped mid-conversation. Some women glanced, then looked again. Even the waitstaff paused briefly as Amara passed.
The soft lights caught the shimmer of her dress, the waves of her dark hair, the delicate flick of her eyeliner. There was something magnetic about her—something quiet but undeniable.
For the first time, Amara didn't shrink from it.
She didn't hide.
She walked through the room with Melody's gentle pull guiding her, her steps steady, her heartbeat wild beneath her calm expression.
Across the room, Xavier stood beside Tobi, who was mid-story, laughing at his own joke. The movement around them caught Xavier's attention—people subtly shifting, glancing toward the entrance.
Curious, he followed their gaze.
His eyes landed on the woman in green.
He didn't know her.
She was just another stranger in a sea of faces.
But there was something about the way she carried herself—something that pulled at the edge of his attention.
"Bro, are you listening to me?" Tobi nudged him, snapping Xavier's focus back.
"Yeah. Yeah, sorry." Xavier turned away, brushing it off.
It wasn't important.
Or so he thought.