Chapter 85 The Weight Of The Veil

• The room buzzed with quiet activity.
• Brushes tapped against palettes. Hangers clinked as stylists rearranged gowns and veils. The scent of heated styling tools mixed with the powdery fragrance of finishing spray. Zara sat in the center of it all, her silk robe slightly askew, lips pressed in a thin line.
• She barely moved as the makeup artist applied concealer in soft, practiced strokes, her touch featherlight. A hairstylist tugged gently at her wig cap, laying edges with the precision of a sculptor. One stylist steamed the hem of her bridal gown while another organized her accessories on a velvet tray.