Episode 3

“Alright, take care! Thanks for dropping by!”

That caught my attention. *Wait… she’s saying goodbye?*

*Mr… uh… what was his name again? Mr. Hair? Mr. Heart? Mr. Something. Whatever. Doesn’t matter. Is he gone now?*

I crept toward my bedroom door and slowly cracked it open, peeking out into the hallway like a raccoon checking for danger.

Only Mom stood there, humming to herself as she tidied up a few sewing tools.

*He’s gone!*

Sweet relief washed over me like I’d just been released from a hostage situation. I stepped out of the room with caution, just in case she had another outfit waiting to be tested.

She was humming.

Like, *actually* humming. My mom, who just an hour ago was stabbing pins around my waist like a medieval tailor, was now all light and cheery. There was a small smile tugging at her lips as she moved around the living room, picking up threads and fabric scraps.

*Okay… weird. She’s in a good mood. Suspiciously good. I wonder what they were talking about.*

Before I could ask, she turned to me with a knowing look.

“Why did you hide in your room?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.

I blinked. “Why? Can’t I?”

She chuckled, not even pretending to be offended. “You didn’t even say goodbye.”

“To a guy I’ve never met? Who saw me in a half-made skirt? Yeah, I didn’t think a heartfelt farewell was necessary.”

She laughed again, and I narrowed my eyes. *Yep. Definitely hiding something.*

“So… what *were* you two talking about?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, he wanted me to sew his little girl a princess dress,” Mom said casually, still smiling to herself as she folded some fabric.

*Little girl?*

Wait—does that mean he’s a father?

I didn’t expect that. He looked young. Like, *my-age* young. Maybe he’s just blessed with a baby face or some kind of youthful skincare routine. Whatever.

“Is that so?” I mumbled, my eyes glued to my phone, pretending not to care.

But something about that still didn’t sit right with me.

“Wait—what? I thought you were only sewing for fun? I didn’t know you were actually turning it into a business.”

She gave me a look. “Oh, boy. You already know I’m a vlogger, and I post videos of my sewing all the time. I even go live while working on projects.”

I stared at her, stunned. She just kept going, voice proud.

“A lot of people have seen my work—Mr. Hart included. He said he liked my style and wanted something special made for his daughter.”

*Okay... so she’s a lowkey influencer now and didn’t even tell me?*

A week later, Mom’s phone pinged while we were eating breakfast. She checked it, and her brows lifted slightly. “Oh, it’s from Mr. Hart.”

I froze mid-bite.

She tapped a few times, then let out a soft sigh. “He says he’s caught up with work and can’t bring his daughter over for the final fitting.”

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