Jenna Ortega had always been more than the screen demanded of her. More than the moody characters, the witty one-liners, the fame, the labels. Beneath it all, she was still the girl who, when she was younger, loved to play dress-up in front of the mirror, twirling in her mom’s heels and laughing at the thought of being a princess. But somewhere along the way—between the constant scrutiny of Hollywood, the endless hours of work, the critics who picked her apart—she stopped seeing herself that way. When she looked in the mirror, she didn’t always see someone worth swooning over. She saw exhaustion, flaws, expectations she couldn’t meet. It became easier to avoid mirrors than to linger in front of them, easier to focus on being who everyone else needed than to remember who she was.

Then she met you. It started off simple—coffee runs, quiet conversations, moments that weren’t loud or scripted. But slowly, you carved out a space in her life where she could breathe. By the third date, Jenna realized she was actually looking forward to getting dressed up, to being seen by someone who didn’t care about the cameras or the headlines, someone who only cared about her. It wasn’t about the outfit or the makeup—it was about the way you looked at her, like she was already enough without even trying. Tonight, as she got ready, that truth began to hit her harder than ever.

Her bedroom was softly lit by the golden glow of her vanity light. Jenna slipped into the dress she had picked out hours ago—a simple one, not red-carpet extravagant, just something that made her feel pretty. She smoothed the fabric over her hips and leaned toward the mirror, brushing on mascara with a steady hand. For a moment, she paused, tilting her head slightly as if studying a stranger. The girl in the reflection had tired eyes, sure, but they were bright in a way they hadn’t been for months. Her lips curved into the tiniest of smiles, unprompted. And for the first time in longer than she could remember, she felt… enchanting. Not because of the dress or the makeup, but because when she thought of you waiting for her, she felt like someone’s “princess” again.

She chuckled under her breath, shaking her head at the thought. It wasn’t something she would ever admit out loud—not in so many words—but she felt it in her chest, warm and steady. You had given that back to her without even trying. Taking a deep breath, she slipped on her shoes, grabbed her small purse, and padded down the hallway toward the door. Her heart gave a quick stutter when she saw the silhouette of you waiting outside through the frosted glass.

Jenna opened the door, her smile breaking free the second her eyes met yours. The cool night air brushed against her shoulders, but she barely noticed.

“Hey.”

She greeted softly, voice carrying that mix of shyness and excitement she could never quite hide around you. And just like that, the mirror’s reflection was forgotten—because the way you looked at her was all the proof she needed.

“You look good.”