Mya

The faint buzz of my alarm pierced through the quiet of my apartment, its rhythmic hum tugging me reluctantly from the depths of sleep. I groaned softly, pulling the comforter tighter around me for a moment, wishing I could stay cocooned in its warmth forever. But the day waited for no one especially not me.

With a resigned sigh, I threw the covers back and sat up, letting my bare feet hit the cool floor. A shiver ran through me as I padded to the bathroom. The fluorescent light flickered to life, its harsh glow making me squint at my reflection. I leaned over the sink, staring at myself for a moment. The tired shadows beneath my eyes were prominent, like faint bruises telling their own story. A story of late nights, early mornings, and the weight of unspoken feelings.

I turned the faucet on, splashing cold water onto my face. The sting was refreshing, jolting me into a sharper awareness. I reached for my toothbrush, the minty foam clearing the grogginess from my senses. By the time I rinsed my mouth and pulled my hair into a loose ponytail, I felt awake enough to function.

In my workout clothes a black sports bra and matching leggings that hugged me like a second skin I laced up my sneakers, grabbing my phone and earbuds before stepping outside.

The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of dew and faint traces of blooming flowers from a nearby garden. I set a steady pace as I jogged down the sidewalk, the beat of my playlist pounding through my ears.

Each step was a release. Each inhale and exhale was a quiet attempt to clear my mind.

As I turned down Venice Beach’s coastal path, the world around me seemed almost untouched waves crashing gently against the shore, a few runners passing by, and the sun slowly climbing the horizon. My breath formed a rhythm with the sound of my feet hitting the pavement.

I loved these moments when I could run away from everything, if only for a little while. No texts. No calls. No expectations. Just me and the open road.

By the time I circled back to my apartment, my lungs burned, but in that good way the kind of ache that reminded me I was alive. My body hummed with energy, my cheeks flushed from the cool wind and exertion. I stood by the window, hands on my knees, letting my breathing settle.

After a long shower, I emerged feeling refreshed. The steam curled around me as I stepped into my bedroom and opened the wardrobe. I didn’t need to think twice I knew what I wanted to wear.

My fingers brushed over the beige two-piece set hanging perfectly on its hanger a cropped blazer and high-waisted, wide-legged trousers that screamed quiet confidence. I slid into the trousers, the fabric hugging my waist comfortably before falling effortlessly to the floor. The blazer cinched perfectly at my waist, framing my figure with sharp lines and soft edges.

I accessorized with gold hoops, layering a delicate chain around my neck and slipping rings onto my fingers. My heels pointed nude stilettos clicked faintly against the wooden floor as I stepped back to look at myself in the mirror.

Polished. Put together. Like a woman who knew what she wanted.

But as I ran a final gloss across my lips and grabbed my phone, my stomach twisted with unease. My thumb hovered over Jordan’s name before I finally pressed “call.”

It rang. And rang. And rang.

“Pick up, Jordan. Please.”

The call went to voicemail. I stared at the screen, my chest tightening as I hit the back button and sent him a text instead.

"Hey, call me when you’re free. I miss you."

I waited. Watched the screen. Nothing.

The silence cut deeper than I cared to admit, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts. My throat felt tight, my mind racing with possibilities. Was he okay? Was something wrong? Or worse… was he ignoring me?

I set the phone down with a soft thud, pressing my lips together to fight the disappointment rising in my chest. “It’s fine,” I whispered to myself, though the ache in my heart said otherwise.

I didn’t eat. The thought of food turned my stomach. Instead, I grabbed my bag, ordered an Uber, and left for work.

Hours blurred together at The Atelier Global. I buried myself in work, drowning in sketches and designs. The hum of the sewing machines was a comfort a steady rhythm to distract me from the silence of my phone. I sketched fabrics and patterns, flipping through color palettes while ignoring the pangs of hunger in my stomach.

A soft knock broke my focus.

“Come in,” I called, not looking up from the paper.

“Hey,” Luca’s voice filled the room, smooth and familiar.

I glanced up to see him walking in. He looked effortlessly put together, as always tailored black slacks paired with a crisp white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. Over it, he wore a charcoal grey vest, unbuttoned for a laid-back look. His dark hair was tousled, but still managed to look deliberate, like he’d just walked out of a photoshoot.

He studied me for a beat, his smile softening. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I lied, forcing a smile that felt too heavy. “Just busy.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push it either. Instead, he sank into the chair across from me. “Need some help?”

I exhaled, feeling my shoulders relax. “Yeah, I could use it.”

Luca had a way of making work easier. We brainstormed designs, his ideas bouncing off mine effortlessly. He teased me when my lines weren’t straight and cheered dramatically whenever I nailed a sketch.

“You’re not terrible,” he joked, flashing me that grin of his.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “Gee, thanks.”

We worked for hours, the room filling with quiet laughter and focused silence. For the first time all day, I felt like I could breathe.

“Let me take you home,” Luca said when the clock read eight.

I didn’t argue. I was too tired to.

When we arrived at my apartment, I hesitated. “Do you… want to stay?”

Luca’s brow arched slightly, but he smiled. “Sure.”

Inside, I dropped my bag and sighed. “I haven’t eaten all day,” I admitted softly, feeling embarrassed.

Luca looked at me like I’d committed a crime. “You what? Mya, that’s unacceptable.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t feel like it.”

He shook his head, heading to the kitchen. “That settles it. You’re learning how to make my favorite meal tonight pasta alla carbonara.”

“Carbonara?” I asked, following him into the kitchen.

“Italian classic. Egg, cheese, pancetta, and pasta. Simple but perfect.”

Cooking with Luca turned out to be fun. He guided me patiently, even when I nearly dropped the pancetta on the floor. He talked about his time in Italy, how his mom used to make carbonara every Sunday.

By the time we sat down to eat, the dish was perfect creamy, rich, and comforting.

“This is good,” I admitted, surprised.

“Told you,” Luca smirked, lifting his fork in victory.

Later, as we sat on the couch with glasses of wine, I let the words spill. My life. Jordan. My aunt and cousins. Everything.

Luca listened. Really listened. His presence was steady, unshakable, and for once, I didn’t feel alone.

“You’re stronger than you think, Mya,” he said softly.

I blinked back tears, smiling faintly. “Thank you, Luca.”

We laughed and took selfies, tagging each other in posts. The pictures felt like a tiny rebellion against the loneliness.

Then an email popped up: an invitation to a fashion event.

“Luca, you’re coming with me,” I said, grinning.

He laughed. “Deal. I’ll design my outfit.”

“No. I’m designing our outfits. Matching ones.”

His smile widened. “Fine. I trust you.”

As he hugged me goodbye, I felt lighter like maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.

The day has arrived. The event starts in 2 hours.

I stand before the mirror, my fingers trembling slightly as I adjust the delicate strands of my hair. Today is the day I’ve worked so hard for, the day I step into the world not just as a designer but as the woman who finally made it. The woman who, against all odds, carved her name into the annals of fashion.

The air feels thick with anticipation as I smooth my hands over my skin. My makeup is flawless, or at least it should be. I start with a clean canvas, prepping my skin until it’s smooth, with a soft glow. My foundation is light, just enough to even out the complexion, but it’s the highlighter that does the magic. It catches the light as I move, a soft, radiant shimmer that dances across my cheekbones and temples. I add a little more around my jawline, accentuating the soft curve of my face. There’s no turning back now.

The eyes are my canvas next. I want something bold, something that says “I’m here to be noticed.” I choose a deep, dark smoky eye, a blend of rich browns and dark charcoals, soft enough not to look overdone but sharp enough to make a statement. My lashes, as always, are long, curled, and thick, like they’ve been brushed with magic. The eyeshadow glows as I sweep the brush over my lids, blending it to perfection. I add a touch of gold on the inner corners, just enough to give a subtle pop of brightness.

Now, the lips. My favorite part. I trace them with a rich, deep red lipstick elegant, but with just the right amount of fierceness. The shade is bold, daring, and I know it’ll stand out, even amidst the flashing lights of the red carpet. It feels like armor. The finishing touch.

I lean back, studying myself one last time. My reflection stares back at me, the woman I’ve become a woman who no longer hides in the shadows but is ready to step into the spotlight. My reflection holds my gaze, unwavering. Today, the world will see me for who I truly am.

I glance at the gown hanging nearby, waiting for me like a silent promise. It’s a deep midnight blue, sleek and modern, yet timeless in its elegance. The fabric flows like liquid silk, catching the light with every movement. It hugs my curves in all the right places, the design minimalist yet powerful, with a deep V neckline that exposes just enough to make a statement. The high slit on the side offers a glimpse of my legs as I walk, but it’s not flashy. It’s the kind of dress that whispers rather than shouts. Every detail every stitch has been carefully chosen, a reflection of everything I’ve worked so hard for.

I slip into the dress, feeling the cool fabric against my skin as it settles around me like a second layer. It fits perfectly, clinging to me in all the right places, hugging my hips, the bodice structured yet soft, shaping my figure. The deep neckline feels daring, but I know it’s the right choice. This moment is about more than just my work. It’s about who I am, who I’ve become, and who I will continue to be.

As I step back from the mirror, the doorbell rings. My heart jumps in my chest. Luca. I know he’s here.

I take a deep breath and make my way downstairs, my heels clicking softly on the wooden floor. When I open the door, he’s standing there, his tall frame filling the doorway. His eyes light up the moment he sees me, and I can see the admiration in them. He’s wearing a tuxedo that is nothing short of perfection dark velvet, smooth and rich, hugging his shoulders and chest in a way that makes him look almost unreal. His tie matches the deep blue of my dress, and it’s like we were made for this moment, made for each other.

He grins, taking me in. “You look incredible, Mya,” he says, his voice deep and full of warmth. “Like you belong in a magazine.”

I smile, a flutter of warmth spreading through me. “You’re not so bad yourself,” I tease, my voice light, but my heart is beating faster now. It’s not just the fact that we’re about to step into the biggest night of my life it’s the way Luca always makes me feel. He makes me feel seen, understood, like everything I’ve worked for is worth it.

Luca gives me a wink and steps inside. “I’ll go change.”

I hand him the outfit I’ve laid out for him a crisp, white shirt, a tailored tuxedo jacket in the same midnight blue as my gown, and black trousers. I can already picture him in it, and I know it’s going to look amazing.

As Luca changes in my room, I take a moment to admire myself in the mirror one more time. The dress, the makeup, the feeling of everything falling into place it’s overwhelming. But it’s also exhilarating. This is the moment I’ve dreamed of, the moment where my hard work finally pays off.

When Luca steps back into the room, I can’t help but pause. He looks... perfect. The tuxedo fits him as though it were tailored for his frame, the dark velvet highlighting his broad shoulders, and the soft light of the room catches the smoothness of his skin. His eyes meet mine, and I feel that same flutter, the one I always feel when he’s close. It’s a reminder that, no matter what happens tonight, we’re in this together.

“You look... good,” I tell him, my voice softer this time, my gaze lingering on him. “I might just keep you around for a little longer.”

He laughs, taking my hand as we step outside. The car waiting for us is sleek, black, and expensive. The kind of car that makes a statement without needing to say a word. The leather seats feel cool against my skin as we slide inside, and the engine roars to life, pulling us toward The Atelier Global.

The drive feels like it takes forever, though I know it’s only a matter of minutes. My thoughts are a swirl of emotions excitement, fear, anticipation. I keep my gaze fixed out the window, but my mind is already at the event, at the lights, the photographers, the crowd.

As we get closer, the buzz in the air is palpable. You can almost taste the excitement, feel the electricity of the night. The red carpet is visible now, photographers lining the sides, waiting for us. As the car slows to a stop, I can hear the hum of voices, the click of camera shutters, the chaos of it all.

I squeeze Luca’s hand. This is it.

We step out of the car, and the flashes start immediately. The sound of cameras is deafening, like the world has suddenly turned into a blur of lights. Luca moves beside me, his presence grounding me as I step onto the red carpet, my heart beating faster with every step.

The crowd of photographers is a blur of faces, their voices shouting our names. “Mya! Luca! Over here!”

I smile, my chin lifted, confident, but I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. I’ve done this before, but this time feels different. This time, I’m not just the designer. I’m the woman who is about to take the world by storm.

The flashes continue, capturing every angle, every movement. Luca stands close beside me, his hand never leaving mine as we pose together, our matching outfits a statement of our unity, our shared success. We’re a team. We belong here, and I know it in my bones.

We’re guided inside, the energy of the event palpable as we step into the venue. The sound of voices, the clink of glasses, the low hum of conversation. I see designers, influencers, investors, people I’ve only ever dreamed of meeting. And tonight, they’ll all see me.

But then... I feel it.

A presence.

I don’t even have to look to know he’s here. I don’t have to search the crowd. I feel his eyes on me, and my stomach drops.

I keep my gaze straight ahead, forcing myself to ignore the way my heart stutters in my chest. He’s here.

Why is he here?

But I don’t look back. Not yet.

Luca senses the shift in my energy. He squeezes my hand tighter, his voice low as he leans in. “Focus, Mya. This is your night. Don’t let anyone take that from you.”

I nod, but the weight of his presence lingers. I can’t shake it.

Whoever this is, whatever he wants, I’m not going to let him ruin this moment. Not now. Not when everything is finally falling into place.

I step forward, the noise of the room fading as I prepare to present my collection, but the unease in my chest won’t go away. I can’t escape the feeling that something is about to change... again.

But for now, I have to stay strong. For me. For Luca. For everything I’ve worked for.

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