Alice rifled through her wardrobe like a woman on a mission—or a woman preparing for war. A war against time, age, motherhood… and maybe her own sense of decency.
She was looking for that dress.
The one she had vowed to never wear again. The one responsible for more church scandals than heresy.
The one that could turn even the most pious priest into a drooling blasphemer.
Her fingers brushed against something silky and familiar. Her heart sank.
"…Found you, damn it."
With a sigh of defeat, she pulled the old garment out and laid it on the bed like it was a sacred relic.
She smoothed out the folds reverently, then took a step back to admire it. It was still beautiful. Still dangerous.
"Haa... This is gonna be tight. Very tight," she muttered, eyeing the way the fabric seemed to shrink just by existing near her. "Damn these post-mom hips…"
But it wasn't like she could get a new one tailored overnight.
