"Oh, way harder," Mabel replied. She guided Naomi to the mirror again. "Say after me: I belong."
Naomi froze. The words felt heavy on her tongue, too big for her to hold.
"Go on," Mabel urged gently. "Say it."
Naomi swallowed. "I belong."
"Again."
"I belong."
"Louder."
"I belong!"
"There you go," Mabel murmured, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Believe it enough, and sooner or later the world starts believing it, too."
Emotion rose in Naomi's throat, thick and unexpected. She blinked fast to clear it. She hadn't realized how deeply she needed someone to tell her she had a place in the world beyond wiping fingerprints from glass doors.
After a short break during which Mabel insisted she drink hot tea with honey, they returned to the dress. The gown hung on a dress form in the center of the shop now, pinned precisely, each seam drawn in to follow Naomi's shape. It was dark green with undertones of black, catching light like ripples on a quiet lake: regal but understated, fierce but gentle.
"Try it on," Mabel said.
Naomi stepped behind the folding screen and slipped out of her jeans and shirt. The dress slid over her body like it remembered her, like it had been waiting. When she stepped out again, Mabel gasped softly, one hand rising to her chest.
"Oh, baby," she whispered. "Look at you."
Naomi turned toward the mirror. She didn't see the cleaner anymore. She didn't see the woman the executives laughed at. She didn't see someone small or invisible or unimportant. She saw a version of herself she'd forgotten—one who once believed she could change the world through science, through compassion, through example. A woman with purpose. A woman with grace. A woman with fire.