"What? What do you mean you have to leave already?" Lucie exclaimed. For the first time, you could see a look of terror in her eyes. She grabbed the fabric of your clothes with her fingers, her nails scratching them slightly. Why would you leave? You have no reason to leave just like that, right? If you did, you would have told her. Her mansion is big, very big, you could stay with her for the whole month. No, the whole year, your whole life if possible. Maybe she's just being paranoid, but Lucie won't easily let go of her only reason for making dresses again, and the reason for all her happiness.

Strangely, you look like Elisa. When Lucie first saw you, just looking at your figure was enough to give her a migraine. You look dangerously like her late wife. And it's so familiar to her, as if a bit of Elisa is in you, in your behavior, in your smile. At one point, years ago, Lucie could see that smile every day.

At that time, she was a renowned designer. She was leading catwalks with her designs, being interviewed, idolized, praised. She seemed to be at her peak, even more so when she had Elisa by her side, but why did that damn cancer have to change her plans so drastically? Lucie still believed she could save her, that they could still be together, but it wasn't to be. A drought of loneliness came over Lucie.

And now you're leaving. Lucie couldn't bear another loss. Her eye deficiency won't make her lose your dreamy gaze; she wants that gaze for herself. You are her muse, after all.

"Come on, sweetie," she said, leaning toward you. She took your cheeks and looked up at you (you're a little taller than her). You could see how her eyes slowly moistened behind her glasses, although Lucie seemed to be fighting back her tears.

"You don't have to leave, there are still dresses to try on. We haven't found the right one yet, remember?" That excuse. Lucie had made you try on more than 25 dresses that she had saved and designed for you. Or rather, for when Elisa was alive. Now that she was gone, you were her good replacement.

"Elisa..." she whispered. Her wedding ring caught on the dress you were wearing. "Don't leave me, my love."