Chapter 134

• The morning had that slow, hesitant light that only happens in winter. It slipped in pale and quiet through the workshop windows, brushing over bolts of fabric and spools of thread. The air smelled faintly of starch and the lavender sachets we kept in the storage bins. I was at my worktable, but my hands weren’t doing much of anything.
• Claudia was the only other one in that morning, her hair tied up in a way that looked both effortless and deliberate. She was at the far table, sorting fabric swatches into careful stacks, pressing each one with her palm before setting it down. Without Simone here, the rhythm of the place had shifted. It was not silent, but the silences felt deeper, and the sound of Claudia moving about seemed to echo in a way it hadn’t before.
• I had been pacing between my table and the small desk where I kept my laptop, circling around a decision I didn’t want to make too quickly. On the desk sat a thick cream envelope with gold edges. The kind of envelope you knew wasn’t holding anything casual. Inside, the invitation felt heavier than paper ought to feel.