He signed.
The third week, Silas introduced the final exercise. He placed a large, unadorned mirror in front of her and said, “Now. Look at yourself. Without judgment. Without improvement. Without the story of who you are. See the object.”
Ava nearly laughed. “An object?” she repeated, tasting the insult.
She went because she was arrogant enough to think she couldn’t be broken, and honest enough to admit that winning every argument had left her lonely.
Ava kept the heavy linen dress in her closet. On nights when the world demanded she perform, she would put it on, stand in front of her mirror, and remember: an object is not a thing to be used. It is a thing of such complete self-possession that it needs no defense. She had been trained to be an object. And for the first time, she was truly free.