Chapter 77

• The morning after the showcase, the silence in the boutique felt heavier than it had the night before. Not haunting. Not painful. Just full. Like the air itself had taken on weight from everything that had been said and everything that had finally been seen. I arrived early, long before the others, and walked the same floor that had held those quiet revelations only hours ago. The mannequins were bare again, their frames waiting to be redressed or packed away. The soft bulbs had been turned off. Only the gray of morning light filled the space, softening the edges of everything it touched.
• I stood there for a long time. I did not reach for my phone. I did not sit. I just let the stillness stretch, breathing in the aftertaste of truth.
• When Julian arrived, I was still in the same spot. He did not ask if I had gone home. He did not mention the showcase or the blouse or the weight of our final glance. He just walked in, quiet as ever, and placed two cups of coffee on the desk. Then he pulled a chair beside mine and sat down without a word. That, more than anything, was what steadied me.