I Made His Wife’s Dress Now I’ll Marry Another Chapter 13
My mother was awake.
She was propped against the headboard, paler than she’d been yesterday, but she smiled when she saw me.
“Clara.”
I took her hand. These were the hands that had once embroidered the finest leaf veins into chiffon. Now the joints were swollen, the skin still bearing the faint marks of old calluses and needle punctures.
“Mom. I’m back.”
She touched my hair, just as she used to when I’d fallen asleep under a workshop table as a child.
The tears I had held back for six years finally broke.
She didn’t ask why I had taken so long to return. She only kept saying, “You’re back. That’s enough.”
When I had calmed myself, I introduced Julien. “This is my partner from Paris. And for today… my temporary husband.”
Julien stood straight. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Eleanor. As for the ‘temporary’ part, I will follow Clara’s timeline exactly.”
My mother looked at him for a few seconds, and a real laugh escaped her.
“Temporary is still better than vague,” she said.
Julien didn’t use that as an excuse to come closer. He simply gave me the only chair beside the bed and moved to stand by the window himself. My mother’s gaze passed between us once, like an old patternmaker studying two pieces of fabric not yet sewn together. She saw everything.
She just didn’t stitch the seam for me.