I Made His Wife’s Dress Now I’ll Marry Another Chapter 37
I walked up to him and placed the envelope with the red thread in his left hand.
“The thread has faded,” Paolo said.
“It hasn’t broken.”
He smiled, but the effort came with an audible wheeze.
Up close, he looked thinner than in the photographs. His old apron hung loose on his frame. His right hand could no longer fully open.
“This is Julien,” I said.
Paolo gave him a long look. “The one pretending to be your husband at the hospital?”
I blinked.
Julien’s expression didn’t change. “News travels fast.”
“The garment union is faster than the tabloids.” Paolo tapped two wooden chairs with his chalk. “Sit. Real husband or temporary one, everyone moves their own chair in my workshop.”
Julien did exactly that.
From a long worktable, Sofia glanced up at us. She hadn’t inherited her father’s broad shoulders, but the directness in her gaze was the same. First, she checked where Julien placed my chair. Then, she checked whether he sat in front of me.
Only after confirming he did neither did she go back to unpicking seams.