chapter 5
958 Words
The air smelled like fresh paint and new fabric. It was sweet and exciting. Standing in front of the shop I had poured my heart into, I smiled proudly at the signboard.
Ava Stitches.
The letters were bold and beautiful. Beside them was a drawing of a needle, a spool of thread, and a shiny pair of scissors.
It was real.
It was mine.
“I still think you should’ve gone with ‘Ava’s Magic Hands,’” Mom joked, standing beside me with her arms folded.
I laughed. “Too cheesy.”
“Cheesy sells, you know,” she said, nudging me.
I pushed the door open and we walked inside. It wasn’t a big shop, but it wasn’t too small either. Just the right size for a fresh beginning. I had used a portion of the money I got from the surrogacy deal to rent the space and buy the equipment: a few good sewing machines, clean white tables, and colorful fabric that made the place look alive.
Even the curtains were handmade by me.
The shelves were slowly filling up with dresses, skirts, tops, and bags, all made by my own hands.
And every single one reminded me of Mom.
She had taught me how to sew. She used to sit beside me for hours, correcting my stitching and helping me redo crooked hems. Now, I was doing this for both of us.
But… there were no customers yet.
We walked in together and sat at the back table where the sewing machine sat.
“Don’t be discouraged,” Mom said gently, placing her hand over mine. “They’ll come. You’re too good for them not to.”
I gave her a soft smile. “Thanks, Mom. I just… wish it would happen faster.”
She smiled, then started looking through the fabrics. She picked up a bright purple dress with golden embroidery. “You know… you could try advertising. These days, social media works wonders.”
I sat up straighter. “You’re right.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Wait—what did you say?”
“I have an idea,” I said, already walking toward the back room. “And you, my dear model, are going to be the star of it.”
She blinked. “Wait… me?”
An hour later, Mom stood in front of the large mirror wearing one of my best designs, a wine-red dress with a floral neckline and a flowing skirt. It fit her perfectly, hugging her curves in a flattering way.
She looked… stunning.
I added a touch of makeup, did her hair, and gave her a pair of silver heels I had stored away.
“Wow,” she whispered, staring at her reflection. “I look like a bride.”
I chuckled. “You look like a queen. Now strike a pose.”
She laughed nervously but did as I asked. I picked up my phone and switched on the camera.
“Hi, everyone! This is Ava Stitches,” I said, smiling at the camera. “And here is our latest creation modeled by my beautiful mother.”
Mom gave a shy wave and a thumbs up.
I took pictures, then switched to a live video. “If you want elegance, comfort, and custom-made beauty, come to Ava Stitches. Located right here in the heart of town. DM for orders or fittings. We’re open and ready to sew your dreams into reality.”
Mom started dancing a little and we both burst into laughter. It was perfect.
I ended the video and uploaded everything.
At first… silence.
Then, slowly, the likes started trickling in.
Comments.
DMs.
Twenty orders within the first two hours.
I worked late into the night that day, surrounded by fabric and the soft hum of my sewing machine. With each dress I stitched, my confidence grew. Mom brought me water and sat beside me, helping to cut patterns and iron the finished pieces.
Every now and then, I took pictures with the dresses with permission, of course and posted them to the shop’s page.
People started tagging their friends.
Someone even said, “Your mom is such a vibe!”
I couldn’t stop smiling.
My phone kept buzzing with new messages and customer inquiries. For the first time since everything happened, since the betrayal, the heartbreak, the hospital, I felt full. Not because of the money, but because I was doing something that felt right.
At some point, Mom touched my shoulder and whispered, “You need to rest. You’ve done more than enough today.”
“I just want to finish this last hem,” I said.
“You’ll do it better tomorrow if you sleep tonight,” she said, giving me a stern look.
“Okay, okay,” I laughed. “You win.”
She kissed my cheek and walked toward the backroom.
The shop was quiet now.
I packed up my tools, washed my hands, and was about to switch off the light when my phone rang.
I looked down.
Unknown Number.
Usually, I wouldn’t answer.
But now, I had a business. Customers sometimes called with unknown numbers or from different lines.
So I picked up.
“Hello, this is Ava Stitches.”
There was a brief pause.
Then a deep male voice responded.
“Hello, Ava. This is Mr. Watson.”
I froze.
That name.
That voice.
It was the same one on the contract.
The same man I had never met but had agreed to carry a child for.
My heart skipped.
“Mr. Watson…” I said slowly, my voice barely above a whisper.
Why was he calling?
What did he want?
My fingers clenched around the phone as a cold shiver ran down my spine.
- Writer
