Chapter 75 The Tear In Her Chest
Dual Pov; Mark's and Becca's
BECCA’S POV
“You say you will remember me, standing in a nice dress,”
The music flowed seamlessly into the quietness of the boutique. The melody syncing with every snip of my scissors.
I had pushed all the mannequins to the wall, cleared the long table, and spread out the fabrics Lady Han’s PA approved earlier.
My fingers trembled a little as I placed the rich black satin next to the sheer gold mesh.
I still couldn’t tell if the PA hated it or loved it; her expression never shifted even once. She just stared, nodded stiffly, and left without a word. It left me anxious enough to feel the tension in my throat hours later.
I exhaled, forcing myself to focus.
I opened a video on my phone of a clip from an old runway I loved. Slow, elegant movements.
The dresses that didn’t scream for attention but owned the room just by existing.
That was the direction I needed.
Something powerful, intimidating, graceful… something that looked like Lady Han’s footsteps could command an entire room the moment she walked in.
Halfway through the video, the idea clicked.
I grabbed my sketchpad, hands finally steady.
The pencil moved on its own.
I sketched the initial framework for the first dress; a strong bodice, a slit that wasn't too revealing and a neckline that didn’t compete for attention yet drew every eye anyway.
Simple elegance!
I stared at the sketch, a soft warmth rising in my chest.
The cutting began; satin sliding under scissors, threads brushing my arms, pins between my lips.
I increased the tempo of the music player, shut the door, leaving myself in a world where no one else existed.
I didn’t feel the fatigue anymore. I didn’t feel the isolation of Mark not visiting.
All I felt was… enthusiasm.
I spent a lot of hours unnoticed until my stomach grumbled, reminding me I hadn't since morning.
By the time I began sewing the second dress, my fingers had tiny red lines on them, but I kept going. Creativity had its own hunger, and right now it consumed me whole.
And then, my chest tightened.
It was a different kind of pain, more like a sting.
It felt like someone had gently placed a cold hand around my heart.
I froze.
A pin slipped from my grasp and clattered onto the table.
I pressed my palm against my sternum, breathing carefully.
What is this? Stress? Exhaustion? Was it hunger?
I sat still at the machine, more like a statue glued to the spot, waiting for the feeling to fade.
And slowlyit did.
A quiet, lingering heaviness remained, though I couldn’t explain it.
It almost felt like sadness.
But whose?
I shook my head and forced myself back into work. There were dresses to finish, deadlines to beat, and failure wasn’t an option.
By sunrise, I had completed three full designs, two near-perfect, the other needing adjustments.
My eyes burned, and my back begged for mercy, but pride flared quietly in my chest.
I wiped my forehead with the back of my arm and let out a shaky breath.
Yet that strange ache…
It remained like a shadow I couldn’t turn around to see.
MARK'S POV
“Plink! Plop! Plink!” I let the hot streams of water shower on me. I hoped the heat would burn my shame away.
I scrubbed my skin so hard that Olivia's lipstick stains were cleared, her perfume lingered around my nose faintly but then her voice echoed around me.
She just leaned in…
kissed me…
and I didn’t push her away.
The moment replayed in my head like a loop I couldn’t break.
Her lips on mine. Her fingers dugged beneath my skin, her er breath against my neck.
And me letting everything go wrong.
Becca!
I had an illusion of her standing by my door but naahh… it was just my mind playing tricks with me
“You're thinking too much,” a female voice cut across my mind.
The door went through silently and there was she, half naked.
Hurriedly,I dragged my towel to cover myself.
“Are you really hiding yourself?” She chuckled. “I have seen and tasted that already,” she added, walking into the bathroom like she owned it
“Olivia,” I murmured, “last night shouldn't have happened,”
She stepped inside the shower with me, water soaking her hair instantly. She crouched beside me, tracing a lazy line down my back with her nail.
“She doesn’t need to know,” she said. “We were tired… overwhelmed. Humans make mistakes.”
“This wasn’t a mistake,” I whispered. “It was a choice.”
My own voice disgusted me.
“You made your choice,”she snapped . “I made mine too and trust me, I don't regret it,” she motioned then used her hand to grab my little guy.
“I don't think he was either,’ she added, drawing my gaze to my half erect man.
I stared at her, the woman in front of me, had no guilt nor regret.
Quickly, I got dressed. She came out with a towel tied by her breast point.
“Please leave,” I snapped.
“I will, but just know that we will still have to work on the project together,” she tilted her head “ I hope you are able to keep emotion aside when it comes to work,” she added.
That hit deeper than it should ...