Their mother’s jeans.
He carefully set them on the bed.
“Do you trust me?” he asked quietly.
Tessa stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“I took sewing classes last year,” he said nervously. “I thought maybe… I could make something.”
“You can sew?”
He shrugged awkwardly. “I can try.”
Before he could take the idea back, Tessa smiled and grabbed his hand.
“Noah, I love that idea.”
From that night on, they worked in secret. Whenever Carla left the house or stayed in her room, Noah brought out their mother’s old sewing machine from the laundry closet. Every evening he sat at the kitchen table, cutting denim panels, measuring fabric, and stitching pieces together.
Tessa watched him work with incredible patience and care. What touched her most was how gently he handled their mother’s old clothes, almost as if he were holding onto pieces of her.
