Entwined in the Shadows

A Stitch in Time

CHAPTER TWO

A Stitch in Time

Eliana stands across a full-length mirror in her fashion studio, a length of fabric draping around her shoulders. She’s so focused on her design that she barely notices the mess that surrounds her—sketch notes scattered around the floor, fabric pieces spilling into every corner. She pins the sleeve of the fabric to her mannequin, adjusting it carefully until it sits just right. “Samantha, this looks great… right?” Eliana asks, arching her brow slightly, as if trying to convince herself. “Yes, Eli… it looks great.” Samantha echoes from the other end of the room. She sets her phone aside and applauds.

Eliana pauses again and studies the design critically. “Nah, not like this,” she mutters under her breath. Her expression tightens. She unpins the fabric and heads over to her sewing machine, making another adjustment. Samantha watches her, concern flickering across her face. “You’ve adjusted that sleeve like a hundred times already, Eli,” she says, rising from her seat. Walking over, she adds gently, “I’m telling you… it’s pretty.” “I know, Sam… it just needs a little adjusting here and there,” Eliana replies, her gaze still fixed on the fabric. “You know if perfection was a person, it would definitely be you, Eli.” Samantha chuckles, grabbing a chair beside her.

After a while, Eliana stands up and pins the sleeve to her mannequin. This time—she freezes, then her face lights with quiet triumph. She twirls around the studio, letting out a joyful scream. “Sam, I did it! I completed my dress for the exhibition.” Samantha springs out of her chair, rushing to her. “I'm super proud of you!” She holds Eliana’s hand and pauses for a moment. Her voice softens, “I know how hard you've worked for this, you're going to do great, dear.” Eliana exhales deeply and pulls Samantha for a hug. The moment lingers between them. Then Samantha breaks it: "Now that the exhibition dress is complete, can we go shopping?” “Of course we can,” Eliana replies, smiling brightly. In her mind, she can already see it all—international models showcasing her designs on a runway. A crowd cheering her name, Eli Eli Eli. Her eyes shimmer with hope. They wrap their arms around each other and walk down the stairs, into the loft area.

Downstairs, in the loft, Eliana’s dad, Mr. Peterson, sits on his special recliner engrossed in a discussion with his personal assistant and company’s accountant, Mr. Jackson. The accountant listens carefully to him, taking precise notes. Eliana and Sam walk in chatting softly. Mr. Jackson looks up, noticing Eliana first. His gaze lingers a fraction longer. Eliana’s eyes awkwardly meet his. She forces a faint smile, quickly avoiding eye contact. He straightens, regaining composure. Then, he greets her: “Good morning, ma’am,” nodding his head gently. Her smile fades the moment she acknowledges him. She looks over and runs to meet her dad, giving him a tight hug. Mr. Peterson’s countenance changes immediately. His slight grin turns into a bright smile. “My princess, how are you doing?” he asks. “I’m doing great, Dad, I’m going shopping with…” Her mom interrupts sharply from the top of the stairs. “Oh, Eli…I see you’re about to go shopping.” Eliana stiffens. “Yes… yes, ma.” “Well…” her mom continues as she descends slowly. Her heels clicking softly against the glass tiles. “Don’t forget to buy a stunning dress for the meeting. You know how important it is.” Eliana’s grip on her father’s hand tightens. She doesn’t respond. The room grows quiet.

Mrs. Peterson adjusts the diamond necklace resting perfectly on her collarbone while she studies Eliana a second longer. Her lips press into a thin line. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about it.” Eliana forces a faint smile. She looks away. Mrs. Peterson presses, “Eli!” Eliana’s jaw tightens. “I haven't, ma.” A flicker of something unreadable crosses her mother’s face. “Good, it wouldn't do otherwise.” Silence stretches between them. Samantha steps forward, slipping her hand into Eliana’s. “We should get going.” Eliana doesn’t move immediately. For a second, it feels like she might say something more. But she exhales instead and lets herself be led away. Just like that, the awkward confrontation dissolves—at least for now.

After Eliana's and Samantha’s exit, Mr. Peterson turns to Eliana’s mom. His brows knit closely together as he reaches her hand. “Did you really have to remind her right now?” Eliana’s mom takes a deep breath. She sinks into the couch beside her. Her voice softens, “You know how Eli can be… I really don’t want her to feel cornered.” Mr. Peterson rubs her hand gently, “Eli is going to be fine.” She nods gently, affirming his words. The accountant watches them from a distance and discreetly excuses himself.

Eliana pulls her hand out of Samantha’s grip the moment they reach the car park. “Why did you pull me out?” Her voice is sharp. “I had more to say.” Samantha turns, slightly taken aback. “Your face in there said otherwise.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

Eliana exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. “You don’t get to decide for me, Sam.” A brief silence falls. Samantha’s expression shifts—something quieter now. “I wasn’t deciding for you.” Eliana lets out a small, humorless laugh. “Really? Because it felt like it.” Another pause. This time, Samantha doesn’t speak immediately. “I was trying to help you,” she says finally, softer. Eliana looks away. The tension lingers. Then Samantha steps closer again, more carefully this time. “Eli… I get it. I really do.” Eliana’s shoulders drop, just slightly. The anger doesn’t disappear—but it softens. She sighs. “It’s just…” Her voice trails off. Samantha waits. Eliana melts. She steps forward and pulls Samantha into a hug. “One day,” Samantha murmurs, “they’ll actually see you.” Eliana closes her eyes briefly. “Maybe.” “Not maybe,” Samantha insists gently. “They will.” A small smile tugs at Eliana’s lips. “Till then,” Samantha adds, a hint of playfulness returning, “I guess I’ll be your prince charming.” Eliana laughs—this time, it feels earned.

While laughter echoes through one part of the city, tension coils slightly in another. Noah frantically stares at the clock. The ticking sound slams against his nerves. Every second feels wasted. The door swings open. Noah’s jaw tightens, “You’re late.” Mr. Jackson doesn’t say a word. He puts down his bag and calmly takes off his tie. Noah steps forward “Are you just going to stand there quietly? I need to get into their world, I need it now.” His knuckles turn white as his voice hardens “I need access—now” Mr. Jackson turns around. His eyes lock in with Noah’s “Patience, Noah.” He walks to the edge of the window. “If you really want something, you must learn to stay calm.” Noah unclenches his fist. A faint smile flashes on his lips. Heavy silence fills the room as his gaze drifts back to the clock. This time, the ticking sound brings him peace. For the first time, control settles into his veins.

Somewhere out there, the Petersons’ house waits. Oblivious to the storm already gathering.