The dress lay across the boutique's front counter like a sleeping secret.
Selene stood over it with a pair of gold shears in hand, measuring tape looped around her neck. The room smelled of lavender and fresh linen. Sunlight streamed through the wide windows, bouncing off polished floors and curated displays. Her studio was elegance personified — quiet, clean, and every bit hers.
Camilla leaned against the back table, sipping an iced coffee. "So this is the birthday dress causing all the chaos?"
Selene nodded, pinning the side seam. "Tiana swears it's ruined."
Camilla squinted. "It's not. It's hot."
"Exactly," Selene murmured. "But she's spiraling again."
"Classic Tiana. She throws a tantrum, you fix it, and everyone applauds her for being fabulous."
Selene didn't respond, just clipped another stitch.
Camilla glanced at her. "You good?"
Selene paused. "I'm fine."
Camilla didn't push — she knew when Selene was done talking. Instead, she flipped the playlist back on low, letting soft R&B hum through the space.
Selene worked with practiced calm — a few snips here, a subtle shift to the neckline there. Within twenty minutes, the dress fit her vision, not Tiana's tantrum.
When she finished, she stepped back, smoothing the fabric.
"There," she said. "Perfect."
Camilla raised her iced coffee in a silent toast. "To best friends and free labor."
Selene rolled her eyes with a small smile. "She's lucky I like her."
But the words hung there longer than they should've. Not quite a lie… but not the full truth either.
She didn't know why, but something ab
out this birthday felt different.