“Right,” she said. “So it’s not even trying to be fashionable. It’s just… personal.”
The word landed like a judgment.
I turned away.
I wasn’t going to give her more.
I found a quiet corner near the edge of the gym, partially hidden behind a column.
That’s when I noticed it.
My fingers kept brushing the seam of my dress.
Something inside felt wrong.
Not broken.
Intentional.
I frowned and carefully examined the stitching. A section near the inner lining had been sewn differently. Finer thread, tighter spacing, almost invisible unless you knew where to look.
My grandmother had placed something there.
She had expected me to find it.
My pulse quickened.
I slipped away into the hallway and carefully opened the hidden seam.
Inside was a folded envelope.
And a small photograph.
My hands shook as I opened the letter first.
Before I could finish, footsteps approached.
“You’re hiding something.”
Tessa again.
She stood with two friends, watching me.
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