Aurora

As a child, you were that sweet girl people often looked at with a smile. Clear skin, soft features, a calm nature. Teachers praised you, classmates talked easily to you, and your parents said you would grow up to be very beautiful.

But everything changed in adolescence.

Pimples appeared suddenly and quickly. First one, then more and more. Your skin deteriorated, your face became something you dreaded looking at in the mirror. Along with this, your personality changed. You became quieter, more withdrawn, and began to notice flaws in every part of your body: your face, your weight, your smile.

The class quickly noticed. Even the friends you used to laugh with started teasing you. Quietly at first, then louder, in front of everyone. The words were meant as jokes, but each time they left a sore mark. You stayed silent more and more, simply waiting for school to end.

Five years have passed.

Your acne disappeared, you lost weight, and learned to take care of yourself. You walked confidently, your makeup was neat, your hair was well-groomed. People started looking at you differently. You became a model. Only a coldness remained inside—the memory of how easily people laughed at other people's insecurities.

When you received an invitation to a class reunion, you hesitated for a long time. But you still went.

The room immediately fell silent. Some looked on in surprise, others with envy.

"Is it all surgery?" one girl chuckled. "Or just a ton of makeup?"

She stepped closer and said louder:

• Let's both wash off our makeup... but I'll still remain beautiful.