“I don’t know.”
Lillian touched her shoulder.
“I can try.”
“It won’t be Mom’s anymore.”
Lillian’s face broke slightly.
She crouched beside her granddaughter.
“It already wasn’t only Camille’s.”
Maya looked up.
“I finished parts.”
Maya’s eyes filled.
“Your grandfather stitched the first hem because your mother was so sick her hands shook.”
Marcus had not known that.
Lillian continued.
“You chose the crystals.”
“At six.”
“You chose too many.”
“I liked sparkles.”
“You still do.”
Maya smiled through tears.
Lillian squeezed her hand.
“Your mother started it. We all became part of it.”
Maya looked toward the ceiling.
“But she ruined it.”
“She damaged it.”
Lillian corrected gently.
“That is not the same as making its history disappear.”
Maya sat with that.
Marcus did too.
Upstairs, the dress looked hopeless.
But Lillian had spent forty years repairing things other people believed were finished.
She owned a small alterations studio before Camille was born.
She had repaired wedding gowns after wine stains, broken zippers, torn trains, even one unfortunate incident involving a candle.
Maybe.
Marcus wanted to believe maybe.
At nine that night, Vanessa left.
Not because Marcus forced her.
Her attorney advised temporary separation until both sides could establish boundaries.
She took one suitcase.
Not three.
The others remained.
Before leaving, Vanessa stopped near the front door.
Maya was upstairs.
Lillian stayed with her.
Marcus stood in the foyer.
Vanessa looked at him.
“You know cutting my bag was insane.”
“Yes.”
“You’re not sorry?”
Marcus thought.
“Not yet.”
She stared.
“That cost more than most people make in a month.”
“I know.”
“You think that makes you righteous?”
“No.”
Marcus leaned against the doorframe.
“I think it makes me a man who lost his temper after watching his wife destroy something his dead wife made for his daughter.”
Vanessa’s eyes flashed.
“There she is.”
“Who?”
“Camille.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
“Even now.”
“No.”
Vanessa laughed.
“You said dead wife before you said daughter.”
Marcus stared at her.
“You are proving my point.”
“What point?”
“That I have spent three years living in her marriage.”
“You entered my life knowing I was a widower.”
“I did not understand what that meant.”
“No.”
He looked toward the stairs.
“You understood enough to hide your resentment from me.”
Vanessa’s face changed.
“Do you know what it is like?”
“To what?”
“To have a dead woman always win?”
Marcus almost laughed.
“There was no competition.”
“That is easy for you to say.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“You created one.”
Vanessa’s voice broke.
“You still love her.”
“Yes.”
The answer came immediately.
Vanessa stared.
Marcus continued.
“I will always love her.”
“Then you never should have married me.”
“Maybe.”
That hurt both of them.
Marcus did not soften it.
“But loving Camille never prevented me from loving you.”
Vanessa wiped one cheek.
“Apparently it did.”
“No.”
He looked directly at her.
“You wanted love to mean erasure.”
She picked up her suitcase.
“I hope someday you realize Maya manipulated this entire situation.”
Marcus’s expression went cold.
“Leave.”
Vanessa did.