She worked on those three pieces harder than she had ever worked on anything in her entire life. Late nights spent in the garden with sketch after sketch scattered across the small stone bench, pencil moving almost faster than her thoughts could properly keep pace with. Long afternoons at the small production studio Adriana had set up for her, learning slowly and carefully to turn flat paper drawings into real, living fabric under the patient guidance of a tailor named Priya, who never once laughed at her clumsy early attempts with a needle, only corrected her gently and showed her the proper way again.
"You're holding the needle wrong," Priya said one particularly frustrating afternoon, watching Silveria struggle through a hem that refused to lie flat no matter how many times she tried. "Here. Like this."
Priya's weathered hands guided hers patiently, demonstrating the correct angle, the proper tension. Silveria tried again, and this time, the stitch fell perfectly straight.
