The train of laughter and ease that had carried Clara through her day with Nicholas was already slipping from her grasp by the time they returned to the city. The skyline rose before them, all glass and steel, sharp-edged and merciless against the evening sky. It looked colder now, as though reminding her that dreams were fleeting, and the world they lived in allowed no room for illusions.
By morning, the warmth of yesterday had been replaced by the pressing weight of reality. Clara’s desk was no longer a place for stolen moments or gentle silences—it was buried beneath rolls of fabric swatches, stacks of sketch pads, and supplier lists that seemed to multiply every hour. Thomas Wolfe Fashion Week loomed less than a month away, its countdown ticking in every corner of the building, and th
