Artemisia

“I can’t find my dress,” I murmur as I look through my clothes, feeling like I’m about to pass out from exhaustion and pain.

“Which one?” Matthew wraps his arm around my waist as he steps to my side, stabilizing me.

I hum, leaning into him. “The red short one. The one with the white dots.”

I let my arm slump as he goes through my clothes, clicking his tongue. “Maybe it’s still being ironed or something. What about this? Isn’t that better anyway if you should ...