She looked at the emerald gown, then at the clock.
“How much time do we have?””
“About an hour.””
She pulled her sleeves above her elbows.
“Then stop talking and tell me what to sew.””
For the next half hour, the workroom became a storm of movement.
Tessa hand-finished the gold appliqué.
Marcus reinforced the train.
I shaped the neckline and fitted the bodice directly on the mannequin, making tiny adjustments until the fabric lay perfectly against the form.
When a seam puckered, I unpicked it.
When the organza shifted, I reset it.
When one of the salvaged crystals refused to sit correctly, I redesigned the embroidery around it.
There was no time to waste on grief.
Grief could wait.
The runway would not.
At 5:48, Tessa stepped back and stared at the gown.
“Nia.””
“What?””
She pointed at the train.
“Look at what you’ve done.””
I lifted the fabric.
The emerald silk fell in deep, luminous folds, and the gold details caught the light like sunlight on the surface of a forest pond.
The salvaged crystals formed a delicate constellation across the bodice.
The torn gold silk from my original gown had been transformed into tiny layered petals around the waist.
Nothing looked broken.
Nothing looked borrowed.
Every detail belonged exactly where I had placed it.
I touched the neckline.
“You think it’s enough?””
Tessa gave me a look.
“Enough?””
She laughed in disbelief.
“If that dress walks past me, I’m going to need somebody to pick my jaw up off the floor.””
Marcus approached the train and inspected the reinforced seams.
“The structure is sound,” he said.
“But you still need to test the movement.””
I stepped into the gown.
Tessa zipped the back while Marcus secured the hidden fastening at the waist.
The dress settled around me.
For a moment, I forgot the slap.
I forgot Vanessa’s threats.
I forgot Brianna standing in front of the mirror wearing the gown I had made for myself.
I looked at my reflection.
The emerald fabric made my eyes appear brighter.
The gold framed my shoulders.
The train moved when I moved.
And for the first time that afternoon, I felt like myself again.
Tessa reached up and adjusted one loose strand of my hair.
“There she is.””
I smiled.
Then I noticed something wrong.
The train caught slightly when I turned.
I knelt to inspect the lining.
The hidden pocket had pulled against the inner seam, and one corner was beginning to separate.
I couldn’t leave it that way.
I removed the gown carefully and turned the train inside out.
The pocket was still intact, but the fastening needed reinforcement.
I reached for the original sketches inside my portfolio.
They were the dated drawings that proved I had designed the pale-gold gown months before Brianna ever touched it.
I slid them into the hidden pocket, secured the lining, and stitched the opening shut with a discreet row of emerald thread.
Then I checked the pocket twice.
The sketches were safe.
The gown was ready.
At 6:02, the graduation coordinator appeared in the doorway.
“Designers, we need everyone backstage immediately.””
Tessa helped me into the emerald gown again.
Marcus checked the train one last time.
I stood in front of the mirror.
The dress was not the one I had imagined wearing when I first began my final-year collection.
It was better.
Because every crystal carried a memory.
Every gold scrap carried a wound.
Every emerald seam carried a decision.
I looked at Tessa.
“If they try to stop me, will you tell the truth about what happened?””
She took my hand.
“I’ll tell the truth even if they throw me out of the building.””
Marcus nodded.
“And I’ll do the same.””
For the first time, I wasn’t alone.
We left the workroom and entered the backstage corridor.
Music thumped through the walls.
Technicians hurried between clothing racks.
Models adjusted their shoes beneath fluorescent lights.
Then I saw Brianna.
She stood in front of a mirror surrounded by two assistants, wearing my pale-gold crystal gown.
The ripped seam had been hastily repaired with gold thread that didn’t quite match.
One side of the bodice sat slightly higher than the other.
Brianna had added a diamond belt that competed with the original crystal pattern.
She looked beautiful.
But the dress no longer looked like my work.
It looked like a stolen masterpiece dressed up to impress people who didn’t know what they were seeing.
Brianna noticed me in the mirror.
Her smile spread slowly.
“Oh, my God.””
She turned around.
“You actually made something?””
Her eyes traveled over the emerald gown.
For one brief second, her expression faltered.
Then she laughed.
“Green?””
“Emerald,” I replied.
“Whatever.””
She walked closer, dragging my gold train behind her.
