I Carried Your Baby, Silent in Plaster for Three Years
Ongoing · Joy Brown
I floated in what had once been my bridal studio, staring at the corpse curled up among the shattered plaster—that was me.
Three years ago, I had been my husband's moonlight, the exclusive signature on his design drafts, the one who had stayed with him from the basement to Fashion Week.
Later, I became the thief who had embezzled and fled, the stranger he spoke of.
My wedding dress had been sta...
Three years ago, I had been my husband's moonlight, the exclusive signature on his design drafts, the one who had stayed with him from the basement to Fashion Week.
Later, I became the thief who had embezzled and fled, the stranger he spoke of.
My wedding dress had been sta...
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