Mara follows directions.
Forty hours a week at a law firm where no one remembers her name. She’s good at it. She doesn’t think about it.
Then she puts on a corset for a costume party.
It’s just a costume. Black leather, brass buckles, steel boning that changes how she stands, how she breathes, how much space she takes up. She tightens it herself, one buckle at a time, and something shifts that she can’t quite name.
At the party, a photographer notices. Caleb doesn’t flirt. He observes. He says what he sees. And when he tells her where to stand, she listens—not because she has to, but because she wants to.
For the first time, Mara starts thinking about what it means to comply. What it costs. What it gives back.
