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Chapter 202

Author: PaloMack. S.
last update publish date: 2026-07-05 23:11:52

Maya's POV

Sarah's call came at 11:15.

I was at the cutting table with the charcoal wool when the phone buzzed and I almost didn't answer because I had the shears positioned and the line I was about to cut had been sitting in my head for two days and I did not want to lose it.

I answered.

"The orders," Sarah said. Her voice had the quality it took on when she was delivering something large and was trying to keep the delivery level so I would receive it rather than deflect it. "Triple the p
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    Elena's POVThe shop was closed and the sign was turned and the light was low and Colette was on the laptop reviewing the press coverage, which had been running since the night of the show and showed no sign of stopping.Elena sat at her station with tea that had gone cold without her noticing and the sketchbook open to the page she had been working on for two days, the showcase in graphite. The steel beams. The arc of the seated crowd. The garden earth at the end of the runway, which was the detail she had been working on longest because getting the texture of dark soil against pale concrete required a patience of the pencil that she was still developing. She had tried it four times. The fourth was closer but still not right. She suspected it needed a softer grade of pencil and she did not have one in the shop tonight, which meant the page would sit open until tomorrow."He was there," Colette said, not looking up from the screen. "At the back. The photographers caught him in three s

  • The Day I Stopped Loving Him   Chapter 202

    Maya's POV Sarah's call came at 11:15. I was at the cutting table with the charcoal wool when the phone buzzed and I almost didn't answer because I had the shears positioned and the line I was about to cut had been sitting in my head for two days and I did not want to lose it. I answered. "The orders," Sarah said. Her voice had the quality it took on when she was delivering something large and was trying to keep the delivery level so I would receive it rather than deflect it. "Triple the projection. Every buyer who was confirmed before Bouchard reinstated. Three new international accounts. The press is still running." I set the shears down. "All right," I said. "Maya." "I hear you." "Triple." "I heard you the first time." She made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and something else. "You cut a crooked line this morning because you were nervous about a signing and now you're all right about triple the projection." "I'm more comfortable with good news than with le

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    Daniel's POVThe crowd was dispersing around him.Daniel stood at the edge of the light tower's shadow and watched the site empty with the attention of a man who has nowhere to be and no reason to move. The buyers were at the racks. The press were in clusters reviewing footage on small screens. The models had gone back to the dressing tent. The steel frame was still lit, the towers throwing their flat industrial light across the concrete, and the garden earth at the far end of the runway was still uncovered, darker than everything around it.He had watched the whole show from here. That wasn’t his plan. He had told himself, walking from the car, that he would watch the first few pieces and then leave, that being present was the thing rather than staying for the duration, and then the first model had walked onto the concrete in the navy jacket and he had not moved for forty minutes.He had seen the collection before, in fragments. The photographs the press had run, the VOSS lookbook he

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    Maya’s POVHe put it on the table.Not on my finger.On the table, between us, in the space where Chloe’s picture book had been.A small box. Dark velvet. The kind that did not announce itself.He set it down with the same unhurried care he brought to everything, then took his hand away and did not

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    Elena’s POVI started working on a Tuesday.Not for VOSS.Maya had offered once—carefully, without pressure—and I had said not yet, which was still true.The not yet was not a refusal.It was a boundary.A way of making sure that whatever I built next belonged to me before it belonged to anything e

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    Maya’s POVI was in the fabric suppliers on Rue des Acacias when I heard them.Two women, somewhere in the next aisle, their voices carrying easily over the bolts of cloth without their knowledge. The acoustics of those shops always worked like that—soft surfaces, open rows, conversations drifting

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