The morning felt like any other. I arrived at the boutique just before opening, the key cool between my fingers as I unlocked the glass door. The street was still quiet, the hum of the city not yet in full rhythm, and I liked that silence before the rush began.

Inside, the air carried the faint smell of fabric and cedar polish. I moved through the racks slowly, smoothing hems, adjusting the tilt of hangers, running my palm across a sleeve to straighten its fall. These small rituals steadied me. ...