Chapter 205

• The boutique was quiet that morning, though not empty. Aisha moved between racks, humming softly as she adjusted hems and smoothed fabric with a care that surprised me for someone so young. I was at the counter, sorting through mail, the same way I did most mornings now. There were catalogues from suppliers, neatly folded invoices, and the occasional note from a customer who had felt moved to write.
• Halfway through the stack, one envelope stood out. It was heavier, the paper a muted cream with my name written in an elegant hand. I paused with it in my palm, feeling the weight before I slid a finger under the flap.
• Inside was a letter on formal stationery. As my eyes moved over the first lines, I felt my breath shift. It was an invitation. A well-known design school in Paris wanted me to teach a one-week masterclass. They wrote of my recent work, of the boutique, of the way my choices had stirred conversations about integrity in fashion. They asked me to bring that perspective into their classrooms, to guide students not just in design but in values.