Zoe's POV
Ashley took one last exhale.
I watched her chest rise, then fall slowly, like she was trying to release everything weighing her down in one breath. Her fingers hovered over the console for a second longer than necessary, trembling just slightly before she pressed play.
The music poured into the room—low at first, almost haunting. A soft blend of strings and distant piano notes, like something pulled from the pages of a tragic love story. It curled into the air, wrapping around us, settling into our bones.
And just like that—
It began.
I had seen the sketches. I had stood in this same room while Ashley pinned, adjusted, stitched, and re-stitched every detail until her fingers ached. I had watched her mutter under her breath, tear things apart, and rebuild them like her life depended on it.
But nothing—nothing—could have prepared me for this.
Standing there now, lined up with the others, I felt like I had stepped into something far bigger than a simple presentation.
