Present...

H E R M I A

"What do you think about this?"

I read aloud and scoffed. It reminded me of how Sally used to obsess over velvet shoes and glittery phone cases back in high school. Vain, dramatic, and fiercely proud of it. She once made me walk half a mile back just because she forgot her tinted lip balm. Classic Sally.

"What has she sent again?"

Lizzy, my makeup artist, groaned behind me, clearly frustrated, as I tilted my head forward to peek at my phone.

"She’s showing off her heels. Again," I mumbled, thumbing through the message, barely able to respond before she huffed.

"Hermia... You’re making this so hard for me. The boss said I’ve got fifteen minutes with you, and we’re already on minute eleven. All I’ve managed is this weak outline of your brows!"

I glanced up at her exasperated face, her arms folded as she waved the makeup brush like a white flag. Then I shifted my gaze back to the mirror.

The girl who looked back at me was not the same Hermia from years ago. She was... softer. Her features no longer hid behind messy ponytails and oversized hoodies. Her lips were lined in a subtle mauve, cheekbones accentuated with just enough highlight to catch the ballroom light. Her eyes, though still fierce, were layered with a quiet sadness tonight — one that crept in when no one was watching.

I blinked and looked away. "I’m sorry, Lizzy." I twisted my lips to the side in an attempt at remorse, but it faltered into a smile I couldn't quite suppress.

"You brat," she muttered, half laughing as she rolled her eyes.

I giggled and tossed my phone aside. "Okay, see? I’m all yours now. Let’s finish in five? Cameron won’t chew your head off for a minute, will he?"

Her face turned pale like I’d just summoned Voldemort. "Do you know who you're dating? The man is a walking Rolex!"

I gave a mock sigh and widened my eyes in the mirror. "You know... you should start earlier then," I teased.

She didn’t bother replying with words. Instead, she hissed, yanked my hair back with practiced flair, and began pinning curls into place with the vengeance of a woman scorned.

"Ouch!" I yelped.
_________________________

"Can I come in?"

My heart skipped at the familiar voice behind the door. I gripped my phone tighter and inhaled slowly, summoning the strength to stand.

"Oh my... I love my work," Lizzy swooned, clearly proud of her masterpiece as she stood back with arms folded and chin lifted, like Michelangelo admiring his David.

I felt shy all of a sudden. Dipping my head, I mumbled, "Thank you, Lizzy."

"That’s my cue," she chirped, vanishing with a whoosh of perfume and the soft click of the closing door.

I heard his footsteps before I saw him.

When I turned around, his eyes widened and a hush fell between us. The kind of silence that said more than words ever could.

"Hems..." His voice was low, almost reverent. "You look... like the moon when it’s just risen... haunting and beautiful, and impossible to look away from."

I swallowed, nervous. Slowly, I walked toward him. "Lizzy really did magic, huh?"

He shook his head slightly, eyes still on me. "No. It’s not her work I’m in awe of... It’s you. It’s always been you."

I tried to scoff, but the smile broke free. Cameron had always known how to disarm me, not with grand gestures, but with quiet reverence.
____________________

The ballroom shimmered with a gentle golden glow, chandeliers casting rippling lights across glossy marble and gowns that whispered against the floor. A soft string quartet played near the far wall, and the clinking of glasses mingled with quiet laughter.

"Would you look at her?" Sally's voice cut through the air with her usual mischief. "You clean up nice, Miss Tomboy Extraordinaire."

I turned, already smiling. Sally stood with a flute of champagne in one hand and her other arm flung around Lizzy’s shoulder. Her red gown hugged her form like liquid fire, bold and unapologetic. Just like her.

"Oh no," I groaned, already knowing what was coming.

"You remember how you used to come to class with that ridiculous backpack that looked like it had survived war?" Sally continued, ignoring me entirely. "And that scowl. God, that scowl. You scared every boy away before they could even look at you. Except Aaron."

Lizzy who was dressed in a soft lilac gown floated over with two glasses in hand. "What are we talking about? Hermia’s dark ages?"

I stiffened slightly, but only for a second. How could I forget that Lizzy was not only my makeup artist but also my roommate in college and knew pretty much of my dating escapades.

"Exactly," Sally beamed. "You should’ve seen her. Skinned knees, messy buns, zero patience for lip gloss."

"And now look at her," Lizzy added, handing me a glass. "She could grace the cover of Vogue. Twice."

I let out a short laugh. I didn't know if it was a compliment or not. "Thanks... I guess?"

Sally’s expression softened, her teasing tone giving way to something warmer. "Your mom would’ve been proud, you know. I remember how she used to keep those little clips in your hair even when you’d yank them out. She always said, 'She’ll grow into her beauty one day. Just wait.'"

Something in my chest tightened. I smiled, but it was brittle.

"I miss her," I whispered, the words slipping out before I could tuck them back in.

They didn’t say anything. They didn’t have to.

A moment later, I handed Lizzy the drink back and excused myself quietly. My heels clicked softly down the hall as I made my way toward the restroom, the laughter and music growing dim behind me.

The hallway felt colder. Quieter.

I touched the edge of my earring, a small silver one my mother gave me on my 18th birthday, and blinked hard against the blur in my eyes.

Just as I turned the corner, I nearly collided with someone.

"Oh—sorry," I said quickly, then looked up.

She froze.

Dark hair tied in a low ponytail, tray in hand, dressed in the standard uniform. The black skirt and white blouse were crisp, but there was tension in the way she held herself. Her eyes, sharp, slightly too guarded, met mine.

Courtney.

She stepped aside politely. "Excuse me."

For a second, neither of us moved. Then I nodded and walked past her, the weight of her stare following me until I shut the restroom door behind me.

Inside, the silence crashed into me.

I leaned on the sink, gripping the edge, willing myself not to fret. Not now. Not over this. Not over him.

But it wasn’t just him, was it?

It was everything. The loss. The change. The hollow ache of becoming someone new while still mourning who you used to be.
________________________________________