Ryan sent a dress. A note. No warmth. Just instructions.
That morning, Eve found the matte black box placed neatly outside her bedroom door. Inside, folded in tissue paper like something too fragile to touch, was a gown, sleek black silk, floor-length, with a high slit that suggested elegance without scandal. A smaller box rested beside it. Inside: diamond earrings, minimalist, sharp, expensive.
Clipped to the dress was a note in Ryan’s distinct, slanted handwriting:
Dinner. 7 p.m. Black tie.
No signature. No explanation. Just a command.
Eve sat on the edge of the bed for a long moment, the fabric spilling across her lap like ink. Her heartbeat fluttered unevenly. Not hope, not quite. Hope had been bled out of her over three years. But there was something. A shift. An opening. An invi
