I Made His Wife’s Dress Now I’ll Marry Another Chapter 69
The wedding was handled by neither Whitmore nor the Moreau Foundation.
I designed the dress myself.
On the third draft, I pushed the sketch across the table to everyone in the studio. “Anyone who wants to work on this can sign up for the normal hourly pay. If no one signs up, we’ll outsource it.”
My mother wrote her name down first.
Sofia signed last, her role listed as Structural Designer, no longer Trial Apprentice.
Julien never saw the dress.
He was responsible only for his own suit, and during the fittings, I caught him secretly straightening his cuffs three times.
“Are you nervous?” I asked.
“Extremely.”
“It’s not too late to change your mind.”
“The right to withdraw is for you,” he said. “I don’t need it.”
“The rules don’t apply to only one person.”
He considered that. “Then I reserve it. I just won’t use it.”
A week before the wedding, two letters arrived from New York.
My father’s contained only congratulations, with no request to attend.
Sabine’s was shorter still. She wrote that she had paid back the first installment of her design bonus, and that Leo had started primary school and still called Adrian Dad.
The final line read:
*I finally made one garment under my own name, and this time, I really did draw all of it myself.*
I put the letter in a drawer and didn’t answer.
Growing up was part of the life she owed herself.
It wasn’t a gift to me.