Silk Awakening In the dimly lit boutique, the air hummed with the faint rustle of silk and lace, a sanctuary against the February chill seeping through the locked door. I hurried down the street earlier that day, drawing my cardigan closer against the relentless bite of the wind. A quiet curse escaped my lips. Why did I always convince myself I could brave the frost without more layers? The sun hung high in a vast, unyiel...