As Mr Rossi moved down the line, taking orders and issuing tasks, Emilia exhaled, her shoulders loosening. The adrenaline from her mad dash finally started to ebb. She took a moment to glance around the bustling diner: the clinking of coffee cups, the hiss of the griddle, the low hum of early-morning chatter.
This place had its kind of rhythm — steady, predictable. And while it was nothing like the thrill of the racetrack, it gave her a sense of balance. A reminder that she could exist in two worlds — the roaring chaos of night, and the orderly flow of day.
A hand clapped lightly on her shoulder. She turned to see Mia, one of her colleagues, grinning at her.
"Made it just in time again, huh?" Mia teased.
"Like clockwork," Emilia replied with a grin.
"Better get moving — table seven's already giving off impatient vibes."
Emilia rolled her eyes with a smile and grabbed her notepad. "On it."
The day had begun, and Emilia was ready. No matter how fast she had to run, she knew how to keep up.
The golden afternoon sun streamed through the diner's windows, casting long, lazy shadows across the floor. The lunch rush had finally dwindled, and the clatter of cutlery and constant hum of conversation had been replaced by a peaceful lull. Emilia leaned against the counter, a half-empty glass of iced water in her hand, savoring the rare moment of stillness.
"Hey, Emi!" Mia's voice broke the quiet. "Come check this out!"
Emilia sighed and pushed off the counter, stretching her arms above her head. "What is it?"
"It's on the TV. A live event or something." Mia's eyes were glued to the small television mounted in the corner of the diner. The volume was low, but the picture was clear enough — a glamorous figure walking confidently down a runway, cameras flashing and an audience applauding wildly.
Emilia's footsteps faltered as she drew closer. The model on screen — a stunning woman with piercing blue eyes and impossibly perfect posture — captured the attention of everyone watching. The news banner at the bottom of the screen read: "LIVE: Amelia Carter's Latest Fashion Shoot Draws International Acclaim."
Mia's voice bubbled with excitement. "Look at her! Amelia Carter is killing it. Did you know she's the daughter of the third-tier richest family in the country? She's everywhere lately — magazines, commercials, even charity galas. And she's only twenty-four! Imagine living a life like that."
Emilia's jaw tightened, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. The name, the face, the effortless elegance — it all crashed into her like a punch to the gut. Her eyes narrowed, a cold edge sharpening her expression.
Amelia Carter.
The memory rose unbidden, dark and jagged. The echo of cruel laughter, whispered rumors, and the sting of betrayal that still clung to her even now. Some wounds never really heal, she thought bitterly.
A low snort escaped her before she could stop it.
Mia's head whipped around, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What was that for?"
Emilia crossed her arms, her voice flat. "Nothing. Just... I don't see what the big deal is."
Mia blinked, bewildered. "Are you serious? She's practically perfect — gorgeous, successful, comes from money. What's not to admire?"
Emilia's lips curled into a humorless smile, her eyes fixed on the screen but distant, clouded with something heavy and unsaid. "Sometimes, perfection's just a mask, Mia."
Mia's brows drew together, the light in her eyes dimming with concern. "Hey... what's going on? You've never acted like this before. Do you know her or something?"
Emilia's jaw clenched, the muscles working beneath her skin. A bitter taste coated her tongue, and for a moment, she debated brushing it off, hiding the past where it belonged — buried. But the pain was too raw, the memory too vivid. The carefully constructed walls inside her mind threatened to crumble.
"No," Emilia finally said, the lie brittle on her lips. "I don't know her."
But the way her voice trembled betrayed her. Mia studied Emilia, her eyes searching for answers in her friend's closed-off expression.
"Emi," Mia said softly, "you can talk to me."
Emilia inhaled sharply, then exhaled, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "It's nothing. Forget it."
Mia hesitated, uncertainty flickering across her face, but she nodded. "Okay. But... if you ever want to talk, I'm here."
Emilia's gaze lingered on the TV for a heartbeat longer before she turned away. The applause, the flashing lights, the image of Amelia Carter's radiant smile — it all felt like a mocking reminder of a chapter she wished she could burn.
She didn't know if she was more angry at Amelia... or at herself for still caring.
Without another word, Emilia slipped back behind the counter, her fingers brushing the cool surface as she steadied herself. The quiet of the diner settled around her again, but inside, a storm brewed.
Some memories refused to stay dead. And today, one of them had come alive with a vengeance.
The studio lights glared bright and hot, but Amelia Carter wore them like a spotlight she was born to bask in. She perched elegantly in the velvet interview chair, her long legs crossed, a smile poised just so — warm enough to charm, distant enough to remind the world she was untouchable. The polished gold backdrop behind her shimmered as if to celebrate her very presence.
Across from her, the host, Claudia Reynolds, leaned forward, eyes gleaming with curiosity beneath her perfectly coiffed bob.
"Amelia, your success in modeling has been extraordinary, but many people have wondered why you go by Carter and not Wilson. Isn't the Wilson name just as prestigious?"
Amelia's smile didn't falter, though a flicker of steel flashed behind her eyes. She tilted her chin up slightly, her voice smooth and deliberate.
"Well, Claudia," she began, her words like honey over glass, "the Carter name is my birthright. My grandfather built the Carter empire from the ground up. I'm not just a model — one day, I'll inherit the company. It's a name that symbolizes power, legacy, and resilience. That's something I take immense pride in."
A soft murmur of admiration rippled through the live audience. Amelia's smile broadened, a practiced gesture of warmth.
Claudia nodded, as if the answer had unraveled a long-held mystery. "So, you're planning on stepping into the business world after modeling?"