After breakfast, he got ready and left. Liv walked him to the door, received a routine kiss, and was left alone in the empty house. The silence was deafening.
She walked through the rooms, straightening the curtains, wiping away nonexistent dust, but her actions were automatic. One thought spun in her head. The dress.
Dad’s warning. The phone rang and she jumped. The seamstress’s name lit up the screen.
“Mrs. Sutton, good afternoon. It’s Evelyn Reed,” the woman’s pleasant voice said.
“I’m just about to head your way. The dress is ready. Is now a good time?”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Liv glanced at the clock.
“Come on over.”
“Wonderful. I’ll be there in half an hour.”
Liv hung up and sat on the sofa. The dress was coming now.
The very dress her father had warned her about in the dream. And what would she do? Tell the seamstress she’d changed her mind?
Throw away her husband’s gift? On what grounds? She stood and started pacing the living room, hugging herself.
She needed to distract herself, to switch gears. She grabbed her phone and dialed her daughter’s number. “Mom!
Hey!” Nikki’s voice sounded cheerful. “How are you feeling? A little nervous?”
“A little,” Liv admitted, trying to sound energetic.
“Is everything all set with the Magnolia Grill?”
“Mom, I’ve told you a hundred times—everything’s great. The table’s set, the cake is ordered, the band confirmed. You just have to show up and accept congratulations.”
“Did you try on the dress, by the way?” Nikki asked.
“Not yet. She’s bringing it today.”
“Oh, I can’t wait! Dad was raving about it.
Says it’s stunning. By the way, little Mikey is all worked up. He told everyone at his preschool that his grandma is having a big party.”
Liv smiled, picturing her four-year-old grandson chattering endlessly.
“Tell him Grandma can’t wait to see him,” she said. They talked about small things for a bit longer, and then Nikki said goodbye, saying she was busy with the final preparations. Liv put down the phone, once again alone with herself.
The doorbell rang exactly thirty minutes later. Ms. Evelyn Reed stood on the porch with a large garment bag in her hands, smiling.
“Hello, Mrs. Sutton. I brought your beautiful gown,” she said.
“I hemmed the bottom as you asked and adjusted the darts. I think it fits perfectly now.”
“Thank you so much. Please, come in,” Liv replied.
She led her to the bedroom. The seamstress carefully took the dress out of the bag, and Liv admired it again. It was truly beautiful.
The fabric shimmered softly. The emerald shade was rich and sophisticated. The cut emphasized her waist, concealing a slight tummy.
The three-quarter sleeves covered her upper arms. A professional job—no question. “Please, try it on,” Ms.
Reed requested. “I’ll check that everything is just right.”
Liv nodded and stepped behind the screen. She took off her casual clothes and slipped the dress on.
The zipper went up easily. The fabric hugged her body without restricting movement. She stepped out and stood before the mirror.
“Oh!” the seamstress exclaimed, clapping her hands. “How wonderful it looks on you. Look at that waist, that posture.
You will be the star of the party, honestly.”
Liv looked at her reflection and saw an elegant woman in a luxurious dress. Yes, it suited her. Yes, she looked great.
So why was she still tormented by a nagging sense of dread? She ran her hand over the fabric, over the hem, over the waist. Everything seemed normal.
What could possibly be wrong with the dress? “The lining is natural silk,” Ms. Reed explained, pointing out the details.
“Your husband insisted that everything be made from the finest materials. And by the way, he asked for hidden pockets in the side seams in case you want to put your phone or a tissue in there.”
Liv nodded, only half listening. She was still trying to figure out what was wrong, but she couldn’t find anything.
Maybe she really was just overly worried. “I think everything is excellent,” the seamstress concluded. “If you have no questions, I should run.
I have another client waiting.”
“Yes. Thank you very much for your work,” Liv said politely. She took off the dress, changed back into her clothes, and walked Ms.
Reed to the door. Left alone, she hung the dress on a padded hanger in the closet and stood for a long time, staring at it. Beautiful.
Expensive. Sewn with love and care. Or not.
Don’t wear the dress from your husband. Her father’s voice rang in her head again, and Liv realized she couldn’t just forget the dream. There was something so urgent, so real about it that she simply couldn’t ignore it.
She closed the closet, moved away, and sat on the bed. She had to decide what to do next. Tomorrow was the party.
And this damned dress. Mark returned home for lunch, as promised. Liv heard the front door slam, heard him walk into the hallway, kicking off his shoes.
She was sitting in the kitchen with a cup of cold tea and flinched at the sound of his footsteps. “Well, did the dress arrive?” he called from the hall. “Yes.
Everything’s fine,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. Mark walked into the kitchen, kissed her on the top of the head, and sat down across from her. “Did you try it on?”
“Mhm.
Ms. Reed said it fit perfectly.”
“That’s great,” he said, nodding contentedly. “You’ll be stunning tomorrow.
Listen, I have to run over to see my friend Kevin this evening. He’s dropping off some documents for the deal. Probably for about three hours.
You don’t mind?”
“No, of course not,” Liv said with a shrug. “Go ahead.”
Mark ate lunch, watched a little TV, then got ready and left. Liv walked him to the door, and when the lock clicked behind him, leaving her alone, she felt a strange relief, as if she could finally exhale.
She walked into the bedroom and opened the closet. The dress hung on the hanger, serene and beautiful. Liv reached out and ran her fingers over the fabric.
What could be wrong with it? Maybe she should just examine it more closely. But what exactly was she looking for?
She took the dress off the hanger and laid it on the bed. She sat next to it, examining every seam, every stitch. Everything looked flawless.
Ms. Reed truly was a master of her craft—straight seams, neat finishing, no loose threads or wrinkles anywhere. Liv turned the dress over, inspecting the lining.
The silk felt smooth against her fingers. She ran her palm over the inside and suddenly it seemed like the fabric near the waist was slightly thicker than in other places. Or was it her imagination?
She stood up, turned on the desk lamp, and held the dress closer to the light. She squinted. No, she hadn’t imagined it.
In the lining near the side seam at the waist, there was a small irregularity, as if something had been sewn inside. Her heart skipped a beat. Liv put the dress down and walked around the room, clenching and unclenching her fists.
What foolish thoughts are creeping into my head? It’s probably just a double stitch or reinforcement so the fabric doesn’t stretch. Just regular tailoring.
But her father’s voice wouldn’t stop ringing in her ears. Don’t wear the dress from your husband. She returned to the bed, picked up the dress, and carefully felt the spot again.
There was definitely something there—something thin, sewn between the layers of fabric. Her hands started to tremble. Liv sat down on the edge of the bed, hugging the dress to her chest.
What should she do? Rip the seam? If there was nothing there, she’d ruin the seamstress’s work, and then she’d have to explain to Mark why she’d cut up his expensive gift.
But what if there was something? She closed her eyes, trying to calm down. She remembered her father’s face from the dream, his serious gaze, his voice, which had held not a hint of doubt.
He had never spoken just for the sake of it. Even in life, when he warned her about something, he always turned out to be right. The decision came naturally.
She stood up, went to the dresser, and took a small pair of sewing scissors from the top drawer. Then she returned to the bed, turned on the bright lamp, and spread the dress out, inside out. She found the place where she’d felt the irregularity—in the side seam, closer to the waist, where in normal wear no one would pay attention to a slight thickening.
Liv took a deep breath, picked up the scissors, and carefully picked at a single thread of the lining seam. She pulled. The thread gave way easily, and a small slit appeared in the silk.
