[Sydney–Earlier that Evening] “What about this one?” I twirl in front of a mirror. Atlas is standing to the side, speaking with the shop attendant. He looks up from his phone briefly, giving a weak thumbs up. Sighing, I go back into the dressing room, shaking my head at his inattentiveness. To be fair he didn’t ask to be here, but after his last-minute invitation, I guilted him into giving me a ride. Making a decision, I picked the dress that got the most reaction from Atlas, a gold lame ensemble dripping with crystals and gold sequins. As I go up to the counter to pay, I realize I must have forgotten my credit card at home. “Oh shoot,” I swear, turning to the shopkeeper. “Can you just put this on hold for me? Last name, Bryant.” “What’s wrong,” hearing my distress Atlas puts down his phone. “Don’t you need that dress for tonight?” “I forgot my card at the office,” I sigh, showing him the inside of my empty wallet. “Not a problem,” he pulls a platinum card from his inside co

[Cordelia] My body is shaking as I drive across town and I am still in shock over my mother’s words when I pull into the parking lot of the hospital. A kind nurse shows me the way to my father’s room. After thanking her, I stand outside his door, my hand above the handle as I try to calm my nerves. My father might be dying. Hearing that from my mother hurt in ways I wasn’t expecting. It is one thing to know it might happen someday and another to see it happen before your eyes. We’ve tried over the years to build a stronger relationship, but there is something about the two of us that just doesn’t mix. Even when I try to do my best to please him, it always comes across as a lack of effort on my part or some type of disobedience if I choose to do it my own special way. It has never been my intention to hurt him, but every time I try to be my own person, it seems to harm our relationship. As I take my last deep breath, the boisterous sound of my father’s laughter rings out in

[Cordelia] “I thought he would be here by now,” my mother’s heels make a gentle clicking noise as she walks back and forth, “Maybe he doesn’t care for her as much as we had hoped.” “No, he’ll be here,” my father chimes in. “Atlas is loyal. It won’t matter that they are divorced. He’ll be eager to reconcile…” “If he doesn’t get here soon, she’s going to figure out something is going on,” My mother hisses. “What if she finds out that you’re pretending…” “Meghan, you’re worrying for nothing,” my father’s gravely voice assures her. “The department head owes me. None of his staff will say anything against us. Anyone who speaks out of turn will lose their position.” My father is lying to me. Not only that, but Dr. Davis, a man who didn’t even know me, put his career on the line to tell me the truth. I don’t know what I did to deserve his kindness, but I am grateful he was here for me today. Without him, I don’t think I would have the courage to do what I’m about to do. I push open th

[Cordelia] “You still have two weeks until the show, Cordy! Make sure you get some fresh air today!” “No promises!” I call after Tilly as she leaves for the office. I am so grateful to have a friend like Mathilda. Not only is she giving me a place to work and live, but she cares enough about me to make sure that I do basic things to take care of myself–like exercise and eat. But I cannot stop working, not until I finish these patterns. I have two weeks to make this line perfect before presenting it at the LA Market and Fashion Expo. There will be vendors from all over the world present and a show like this can launch a career. Entering my collection into this show was expensive, eating up most of what remained of my limited savings. Pulling a pencil from behind my ear, I lean forward and begin sketching out a shape when I hear my phone ring with a tone I haven’t heard in several weeks. It’s my mysterious anonymous unlisted friend. The message contains a series of imag

[Cordelia] As I cry, I think about all of the terrible things Atlas will say about me when he finds out. It isn’t hard to imagine his voice belittling me, scolding me for being so irresponsible. I already know that someone like me shouldn’t be a mother. What do I have to offer this child other than my imperfect self? I have no job and no family I can depend on. He’ll assume I am trying to trap or use the baby as some kind of leverage to get him to do what I want him to do. I sit up a little straighter. I don’t have time for this. I need to finish this line and be the very best I can be because the only way I’ll be able to raise this little one on my own is to make myself into a success. We don’t need Atlas Steele. Just because this baby is a part of Atlas, doesn’t mean that Atlas needs to be a part of my life. I will give this small wonder all the love he or she needs. I spend the next several hours working non-stop on my prototypes. By the time Tilly comes home from work, I