Chapter 274
The back room was small and warm, lit by a single chandelier that cast soft golden light over everything.
The dress hung on a mannequin in the center, glowing like something alive. Ivory. Satin. Lace.
It was more beautiful than I remembered.
My grandmother's lace was stitched into the bodice, delicate and intricate, like frozen cobwebs spun by moonlight. The pattern told a story, tiny flowers, winding vines, birds in flight. I had never noticed the birds before. They were small, almost hidden among the leaves, but once I saw them, I couldn't unsee them.
The satin flowed down from the waist, pooling at the base of the mannequin like water. It wasn't stiff or shiny. It was soft, matte, the kind of fabric that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Modest. Elegant. Timeless.
