Sad Princess Nina

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Heartache clung to Princess Nina like a shadow after the breakup, leaving her adrift in the hollow silence of her chambers. The once-vibrant royal barely recognized her reflection—pale cheeks, tired eyes, a crown sitting crooked atop unbrushed curls. But when her stylist arrived with armfuls of midnight-blue satin and whispers of reinvention, something shifted. Silk gloves hugged her fingers as they fastened a choker of starlit diamonds, the neckline of her sleek jumpsuit plunging just enough to feel daring. They swapped her tarnished tiara for a razor-sharp pixie cut dipped in rose gold, painted her lips the exact crimson of rebellion. By the time knee-high boots clicked against marble floors, her reflection smirked back—a warrior queen in couture armor, ready to trade tears for runway lights and rewrite her story one stiletto step at a time.

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