Chapter Text
Regina George of February is a very different person from Regina George of last July.
Sure, for the most part she’s the same. Her glossy hair hasn’t lost its shine, her heels haven’t lost any inches (God forbid), her comebacks haven’t lost their snark.
It’s the little things, though. Things only the people who really know her will see.
Things like how her laundry basket–usually full of pinks and whites, lace and pleated skirts and the lowest of low rise–now sports an out-of-place accessory. A wrinkled dark olive green jacket, one Past Regina would scoff at. “That’s the fugliest thing I’ve ever seen,” she would say. Not anymore.
Things like how Regina’s tight schedule, usually full of strict confinements–skincare at eight o’clock, shopping on Tuesdays at five, no exceptions–has noticeably loosened up. Regina finds herself putting down her planner, even forgetting it on her bedside table. It’s so unlike her it’s almost comical.
Even things almost no one would notice. Like the scent of the inside of her silver Lexus–usually an expensive powdery rose, now showing hints of smoke and musk. Something so small and insignificant, it's no wonder the average person in Regina’s life would think her to be exactly the same as seven months ago.
But she’s not. She’s changed–for better or for worse, it’s hard to say.
The source of all this change is, of course, Rodrick Heffley.