"That's good," Mom says quietly.
I nod and flip open the clipboard, scanning our orders for the day. For once, the lines don't blur, double, or tilt. Everything looks manageable, straightforward, and even enjoyable. I smile and ask, "Can I go to work now?"
Mom pauses, then nods, returning my smile. "Sure."
"Great." I move down the hallway and sort fabric for a new bridal line I convinced Mom to explore. I hum, not letting my parents' conversation ruin my mood. The rhythm of work settles into my bones, steady and warm.
My phone buzzes, and I instantly reach for it.
Red: Have water, too.
A grin spreads across my face before I can stop it.
Me: Relax. I'm good. Perfect, even. You should see me.
A long time passes with silence, but instead of spiraling, I tuck my phone into my pocket and return to my fabrics. I'm not going to worry when he's in sessions, writing notes, or doing whatever brilliant things he does instead of replying.
Instead, I cut fabric, pin seams, and guide an assistant through a redesign. The entire time, my chest feels light, as if invisible pressure lifted overnight. I'm on top of my game, and my heart keeps swelling bigger.
Red kissed me.
Mom checks on me from time to time. I act like she's not there, continuing to kick ass at work.
Nothing can touch me today. Every thought of kissing Red, every memory of his hands on me, and each time I quickly reread the love letter he left me wrap around me like a soft cocoon.
My phone buzzes once.
Red: Proud of you.
It's three words and feels like everything. So absolutely nothing can dim the glow that settles deep in my chest.
I'm finally happy. I found the man I'm going to give everything to, and he wants it as much as I do.
By midday, I'm convinced the universe has finally decided to give me a break. Every stitch I sew lands exactly where I want it. All our clients who come in leave smiling. Each idea that sparks in my head actually makes sense instead of spiraling into noise. It's like the whole world is operating in perfect alignment, and I know exactly why.
Red kissed me.
The glow in my chest hasn't dimmed once. Around four, I remember his reminder about food and pull out a yogurt cup from the fridge in the breakroom. I dip the spoon in, then stick my tongue on the pink cream and snap a selfie.
Me: Look at me eating AGAIN. Do I get a gold star?
I stare at the screen, waiting. After five minutes, I decide he's probably in another session.
I imagine his intense, focused body language while someone else talks to him. My heart races faster. The thought shouldn't make me jealous, but it does.
He's mine. No one else's,I remind myself, then return to humming while I line the hem of a princess-style wedding dress. I angle the skirt against the light and force myself not to spiral.
The memory of him holding my hand while I fell asleep quiets whatever tiny flicker of insecurity tries to tug at me. I thread the needle again and keep working, humming a tune that comes from nowhere.
Thirty minutes later, my phone buzzes.
My heart leaps.
Red: Good. Make sure you eat a good dinner tonight, too. And take breaks so you don't overwork yourself.
The corners of my mouth pull up before I can stop them. I reread the message three times, savoring every word. It's clinical, professional, and so Red.
He loves me so much!
