Chapter 120

• The rest of the morning passed in a kind of calm focus that I hadn’t felt in weeks. I pulled a fresh stack of muslin onto the worktable, smoothed it flat with the palm of my hand, and began making notes. No fanfare. No new silhouettes. Just the same lines I had once drawn for myself, now with the weight of years in my hands.
• I decided it would be white silk. Not cream, not ivory — pure white. The kind of white that feels almost alive under light, that picks up warmth from skin and shadow from folds. It’s the most unforgiving fabric if you treat it carelessly, but when handled right, it speaks without a sound.
• Julian watched from the doorway for a while before stepping in. “This is your answer?”