(Aurora's POV)
I spoke before she could. "I'm the one who messaged you last night. About the gown in your post."
A beat. Then her shoulders dropped slightly. "That was you."
"That was me."
We sat down on the small sofa near the window. Tiffany set two glasses of water on the table and folded her hands in her lap.
"I should tell you upfront," she said, "this is my first piece since I relaunched. It's entirely hand-sewn. My timeline is slower than a proper atelier. You'd be better off going to someone with a full team."
"Can I see it?"
She looked at me for a moment, then stood and went into the back room.
When she came out, she was carrying the gown over both arms, the way you carry something you don't want to crease.
She hung it on the rack near the window and stepped back.
The fa
