Lahat ng Kabanata ng He Chose my Cousin, so I Chose Revenge: Kabanata 201 - Kabanata 210

The morning began softly. I arrived at the boutique earlier than usual, wanting a little time to myself before the day unfolded. The air outside was crisp, and the windows of the boutique fogged lightly as I unlocked the door.Inside, the silence greeted me. I walked between the racks, touching each fabric as though I was saying good morning. The dresses felt cool under my fingertips, their presence grounding me in ways that words rarely could.Claudia arrived a little later. She moved more quickly than usual, her steps carrying a kind of nervous energy. She set her bag down behind the counter and looked at me with a seriousness that told me something was on her mind.“I need to talk to you,” she said.I gestured toward the small table near the back. “Sit with me.”She pulled out a chair and leaned forward, her fingers twisting together. For a moment, she said nothing. I waited, knowing her well enough to give her space. Finally, she took a breath.“I’ve been working on something,” sh

The morning began without hurry. I unlocked the boutique, turned the sign, and breathed in the familiar scent of wood and fabric. The air carried the same hush it had held for weeks, the kind of quiet that allowed me to notice every small sound—the kettle humming in the back, the soft shuffle of Aisha arranging displays, the faint murmur of the street outside.I settled at the counter with a stack of notes I had been meaning to answer. The boutique had become a place not just of dresses but of letters. Customers left thank you cards, suppliers sent updates, and sometimes strangers wrote after seeing a photograph in a magazine. Most of the time, I answered them with brief replies, careful not to let words carry more weight than the work itself.That morning, as I reached the bottom of the stack, one envelope stopped me. It was heavier than the others, the paper thick, the handwriting both firm and elegant. I knew it before I even read the name.It was from

The first morning in Paris began before the city was fully awake. I sat in the small apartment the school had arranged for me, drinking tea that tasted different from the blends I had grown used to at home. The air smelled faintly of bread from the bakery on the corner. I had laid out my notes the night before, but now that the hour had come, they felt both too much and not enough. When I arrived at the school, the building felt as imposing as I remembered. High ceilings, tall windows, and hallways where sound carried in a way that always made me feel smaller than I was. A staff member greeted me politely and led me toward the classroom. I could hear the faint buzz of conversation before the door opened. Inside, twenty students waited. Some leaned forward with sketchbooks already open. Others sat back, arms crossed, measuring me the way students measure anyone who comes to stand in front of them. I greeted them quietly and set my bag on the desk.

The evening had fallen softly, with the kind of light that clung to the horizon a little longer than usual. I had just finished rearranging a few bolts of fabric in the boutique when Julian came in. He moved more slowly than usual, his shoulders carrying a weight I could sense before he even spoke.“You’re late,” I said lightly, trying to read his expression.He managed a small smile. “The day ran longer than I thought.”I locked the last drawer behind the counter and turned toward him. Something in his eyes told me that it wasn’t only the day that had been long. He waited until I had gathered my bag and switched off the boutique lights before he spoke again.“Let’s walk,” he suggested.We stepped out into the evening air. The city hummed quietly, not loud with traffic but alive with footsteps, conversations, and the occasional sound of music drifting from an open window. Julian reached for my hand, but his grip felt less certain, as thou

I woke before the light had fully spread across the room. The curtains were only half closed, which meant the rising sun had a way of slipping through the opening, painting a long golden line on the floorboards. The stillness of the house wrapped itself around me, so soft and steady that for a moment I did not move at all. I listened to the quiet, to the faint hum of the city that seemed distant at this hour, and to the sound of Julian’s breathing beside me. His chest rose and fell in a rhythm that had steadied me so many times before.For weeks now we had circled the subject of goodbye without ever stepping fully into it. There had been words that tried to shape what a separation would mean, and silences that said even more than words could. I had imagined that such an ongoing conversation might break something inside me, yet instead it had left me strangely open, almost tender in a way I had not expected. The thought of parting was not sharp anymore. It was heavy, yes, but it carrie