The morning light spilled lazily through the boutique windows, falling in warm pools across the worn wooden floors. Dust floated in the beams, catching in a way that made the air itself feel alive. I walked slowly among the tables, smoothing fabrics, arranging sketches, and adjusting mannequins, as though every careful movement stitched me back into the person I had always been meant to become.

Noelle followed quietly, her fingers brushing the silk and cotton as if testing for its memory. ...