I looked at him for a long second. Part of me wanted to let him fill the silence. Another part of me was too tired for that.
I told him we were all grown and responsible for the way we spoke to each other.
He blinked as if he had not expected me to be that direct. There was another pause. A longer one. Then he cleared his throat and said he should get back. He stepped out and closed the door quietly behind him.
I heard his footsteps fade down the hall. I sat back down. The quiet pressed in around me. My heart felt both steady and strange, like it was bracing for something I could not name yet.
After a minute I picked up the wooden box again. I tucked the sketch papers carefully inside and kept one small piece out, a tiny swatch pinned to a corner of the first draft. A bit of deep black silk. My mom had written a tiny note under it saying it was meant to represent resilience.
I smiled at that. She had always known what I would need most.
I slipped the fabric swatch into my palm and held it until it warmed. My dress brushed softly against my legs as I stood. I looked around the room one more time, letting the shadows and familiar shapes settle into me.
The sounds from the dining room floated faintly down the hall. A burst of laughter. Glasses touching. Someone calling for more wine. It felt like another world entirely from the one I had been sitting in.
I placed the wooden box back inside the dresser drawer and closed it gently. My fingers lingered on the handle before I let it go. I could feel the shift inside me more clearly now. Something had settled into place.
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