One morning, Madam Ruan handed Nora a faded flyer.
"The National Traditional Crafts Competition. You're entering."
Nora blinked. "Me?"
"Don't ask stupid questions," the old woman snapped.
The competition was a nationwide celebration of cultural artistry—fiercely competitive and brutally judged. Nora had watched past winners on TV. She never imagined she'd be one of them.
But something in her stirred.
Madam Ruan handed her a sketchbook filled with patterns. "You won't win with cuteness. Make them remember you."
And so, Rebirth was born.
A phoenix rising through flame, each feather embroidered with a different stitch. Gold thread, coral beadwork, rich crimson curves—every detail drawn from memory, pain, and hope.
Nora worked through nights and naps, fingertips raw. Aiden napped nearby while she stitched her story into silk.
When she finished, Madam Ruan stared at the final piece in silence.
"My daughter once embroidered a phoenix," she murmured. "But not like this."
They mailed it off in a box wrapped with red string.
And waited.