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Ninety nine

Penulis: Ranya Vale
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-08-07 07:19:01

The boutique had grown quieter in the weeks since the opening. Not from lack of interest, but from the rhythm we had promised to protect. No rush. No spotlight. Just time. Steady, deliberate time. Lena’s article had already begun to fade into the archives of the internet, but the people it brought continued to arrive quietly, respectfully, as though they, too, understood that this space wasn’t built to entertain.

Julian was still arriving early. Sometimes earlier than I did. I would walk in and find him seated in the corner chair by the back window, a cup of coffee in one hand, a pen in the other, making notations on a sketch or drafting measurements with a quiet intensity that never looked strained. His presence had always anchored the boutique, but recently, it carried something else. Something softer. He was still himself, still thoughtful, still cautious with his words, but there was a gentleness now in the way he moved through the rooms. A stillness that came not from exhaustio
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    It started quietly, like most things do these days. No announcement. No scandal. Just a name mentioned over coffee, a folded page in a trade magazine, a whispered remark from someone I used to know well but hadn’t spoken to in years. I almost missed it. Would’ve missed it, if Simone hadn’t paused mid-sentence and tilted the page toward me, her finger tapping once, deliberate.“You’ll want to look at this,” she said.I did not expect to see the silhouette of my own work staring back at me. Not exactly, not down to the last detail, but close enough that I knew. A particular sleeve curve I had only used once, a way the fabric twisted at the hip that had taken me four sketchbook tries to solve. Not copied, not blatantly. But echoed. Whispered through another label, bent just enough to avoid accusation, but not enough to hide the truth from someone who had lived it.Julian sat across from me, his fork suspended halfway to his plate. I hadn’t even noticed the conversation had stopped.“What

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    We woke before the alarm.The light came in soft through the curtains, that kind of clean morning gold that makes everything look like it belongs. No dramatics. No symbolism. Just sunlight, steady and sure. It touched the edge of the duvet, crept over the old oak floors, lit the steam rising from the mug Julian had placed on my nightstand.I didn’t reach for it yet.He was still beside me, propped up on one elbow, quiet. The kind of quiet that meant he had already been watching me for a while, letting me wake slowly, the way he knew I liked to.“Hi,” I said softly.He smiled. “Hi.”The word settled between us like a tradition. There was nothing new about the morning. That was the best part.Outside, the street was coming alive. I could hear a delivery truck grumble two blocks down. A dog barked once and stopped. Somewhere, a door slammed and a bicycle bell rang. It was the sound of life, moving around us. And here, inside this room, time moved slower.Julian handed me the coffee. I sa

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    The rain had started that morning, not in a rush but as something gradual, as if the sky had needed time to make up its mind. It wasn’t the kind of downpour that sent people running or forced umbrellas open like shields. It was a gentle, steady rainfall. A soft insistence that lingered in the air and darkened the sidewalks, painting the city in deeper shades of itself. By noon, everything was wet and quiet. Not silent, but hushed. As though the rain had given the day permission to slow down.Julian and I didn’t have plans. For the first time in weeks, there was no event, no fitting, no meeting waiting just beyond the next breath. We had taken the day without apology. Not as a reward, not to mark anything. Just because we could. Because the work was steady, the team was strong, and we had started to understand that rest did not mean stepping away. It meant stepping into something else for a while. Something just as real. Something that didn’t need to be measured.We walked through the

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