I Made His Wife’s Dress Now I’ll Marry Another Chapter 33
That afternoon, I went back to the hospital to stay with my mother.
She seemed more alert and asked about my life in Paris. For the first time, I didn’t just say, “It’s been fine.”
I told her how I had gone from a night-shift seamstress to a structural consultant, how I had learned to write my own name into contracts. I told her, too, that I had left the Moreau Foundation and was preparing to open a studio of my own.
“Why did you leave?” she asked.
“I didn’t want to spend my life hiding behind the people who helped me.”
My mother nodded. “Does Julien know that?”
“He does. He said the door would stay open, but he wouldn’t choose for me whether to come back through it or not.”
She smiled softly. “That’s what it means to leave someone room. Not to force them into a shape that’s already been cut.”
She also told me that the first time Sabine came to the workshop as a child, I had been the one to offer her my small dress form. Later, when the family praised my talent, they always added that Sabine should learn from me.
Jealousy did not spring from nowhere.
But being hurt by comparison never gave anyone permission to keep hurting others.