Chapter 64

The pencil scratched rhythmically against the pristine sketchpad, but Elodie’s focus had gone AWOL. Her eyes were glazed over, lost in a memory painted in warm sunlight and the scent of acrylics. ‘El, my dear, you need to hold the pen like this, yes, and draw the lines like this,’ a gentle voice echoed in her mind. ‘Come on, mommy will teach you.’ It was a polaroid snapshot from her childhood, when her tiny fingers, barely three years old, clutched a crayon the size of a banana. Sunlight streamed through the skylight, casting shimmering squares onto the polished wooden floor of her mother’s studio. Madeline, a vision in a paint-splattered smock, was perched on a stool, surrounded by the alchemy of sketches, fabric swatches, and glittering beads. Elodie, mesmerised, toddled over, drawn to the intricate scribbles on paper. She begged, pleaded, her vocabulary limited to coos and pointing fingers, until Madeline yielded with a laugh. ‘Alright, my little fashionista,’ she chuckled, scooping