The scent of evening roses drifted through the open window, mixing with the familiar aroma of face powder and foundation. Lisa gazed into the mirror, her practiced hands deftly applying the makeup that had become as much a part of her identity as her silver hair and gentle smile. Each stroke was a reminder of her independence, a testament to the woman who, despite the years, still valued her appearance.
But yesterday’s family dinner was a different story. As she added the finishing touches to her look, her daughter-in-law, Jenna, entered the room. Jenna’s eyes narrowed as she watched Lisa. With a sneer, she said, “Oh, you look pathetic trying to cover up your wrinkles. At your age, you should stop pretending to be something you’re not.”