A Name With Weight

I spent the entire day perfecting the dress design. Every line, every fold had to be right. By the time I was done, it was already night, and my body ached from the long hours spent hunched over my sketches. But at least the design felt perfect—strong, feminine, and bold. Now, I just needed the fabrics.

The next morning, I set out early. My mind raced through a checklist of stores—local ones, high-end boutiques—everywhere I could think of that might have what I needed. But by the time I hit the fifth store, frustration crept in. The silk crepe? Sold out. The chiffon? Gone. Even the specialty satin organza had vanished from every shelf I searched.

"How is this even possible?" I muttered under my breath after leaving the last high-end store in town. The desperation in the air at the atelier must've reached the fabric suppliers too. Everyone had been gearing up for the upcoming competition, and clearly, I wasn't the only one needing the best materials.