The next morning, Leya found herself standing at the edge of a glossy, glass-paneled building, the headquarters of Sabine's design empire. It gleamed under the soft morning light, reflecting the city's endless possibilities. Yet, all she could feel was an overwhelming weight pressing against her chest, suffocating her with every breath. She looked down at her phone again—no new messages from Clara or anyone else.
This was it. The moment her parents had been preparing for. The moment when Leya was supposed to prove herself.
She entered the building, the smooth, polished floors beneath her feet echoing as she walked through the grand lobby. She knew this building, had walked past it countless times, dreaming of a day when she'd be invited inside, when she'd be part of this world.
But now that she was here, she felt nothing but emptiness.
The receptionist led her to a sleek conference room where Sabine, the renowned fashion mogul, sat waiting for her. Her smile was warm, but there was an edge to it—one that Leya couldn't quite place.
"Welcome, Leya," Sabine greeted, her voice rich with confidence. "I've heard a lot about you."
Leya nodded, forcing a smile in return. "Thank you for having me."
They exchanged pleasantries, but as the conversation unfolded, Leya couldn't help but feel like an outsider, as though she didn't belong here. Every word from Sabine felt like a test, an unspoken evaluation of who Leya was—who she should be—and Leya felt small, invisible beneath the weight of it all.
She had been trained to perform, to speak the right words, to act with poise and elegance. But none of it felt real. None of it felt like her.
"Tell me, Leya," Sabine leaned forward slightly, her gaze intense, "what do you truly want? What do you see for yourself in this industry?"
Leya's throat tightened. She had practiced this. She knew the answer she was supposed to give. But today, for the first time, the words felt hollow, rehearsed.
"I… I want to be a part of something big. To create something that lasts," she said, her voice faltering at the edges. She tried to push past the unease, but Sabine was already studying her too carefully, like she could see right through the mask Leya wore.
Sabine nodded, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—something Leya couldn't quite place. "The world is full of people who say they want that," she replied, her voice gentle but sharp. "What makes you different, Leya? What do you have that others don't?"
The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken judgment. Leya opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. She didn't know what to say. She wasn't sure anymore.
Sabine studied her for a moment longer, then smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Perhaps you'll find your answer. Good luck, Leya. We'll be in touch."
Leya nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She stood up, feeling as though the room was closing in around her. She needed air. She needed to leave, to escape this suffocating space before she lost herself entirely.
Later that night, at her apartment...
Leya collapsed onto her couch, the weight of the day still clinging to her. She felt defeated, drained. There were no calls, no emails from Sabine—nothing. It wasn't the silence that bothered her, though. It was the realization that she was still searching for something, and no one seemed to have the answers. Not Sabine, not her parents, not even Clara.
Her phone buzzed again, and this time it was Clara. "I don't want to push you, but I think you should reconsider meeting Reis. Sometimes, seeing the past helps you understand the present."
Leya stared at the message, a pang of something in her chest. She didn't know if she was ready for that. For him. For the things they left unsaid.
But deep down, she knew Clara was right. Her life wasn't just about fitting into the mold her parents had set for her. It was about breaking free, about discovering what she wanted—what she needed.
The truth was, she had never really stopped thinking about Reis, and the idea of seeing him again, after all these years, seemed both terrifying and inevitable.