Ahana's POV
My legs were trembling, and my palms were drenched in sweat. I sat frozen, staring into his piercing hazel eyes, which held me captive even as he maintained his professional demeanor. His presence was overwhelming, and I could barely keep myself together.
"Ms. Ahana Sah, please have a seat and introduce yourself," a man seated to his right said, breaking the silence.
I snapped out of my daze, mustering a nervous smile as I sat on the chair in front of them. I introduced myself, trying my best to sound confident despite the nervous knots in my stomach. I handed over my portfolio and braced myself for the questions.
"Tell us about your educational background and walk us through your resume," the man continued.
I explained each design in my portfolio in detail, making sure to articulate my thought process and inspirations. My voice remained steady, but my mind wandered. Why isn't he asking me anything? He hadn't spoken a word, only skimming through my portfolio with a slight furrow in his brow.
Just as I thought the interview was over, I heard his voice. Deep, raspy, and laced with authority, it sent a shiver down my spine.
"What events in your life led you to choose a career in the fashion industry?" he asked, still looking at the file.
I was caught off guard. I hadn't expected such a personal question, but I composed myself, thinking hard about how to answer.
"People will only listen to your story when you're successful enough to prove your words," I began, my voice trembling slightly. "But this work—fashion—doesn't require proof. It demands passion, and that passion comes from the life experiences I've had. Though those events aren't something I prioritize anymore, they shaped me into who I am."
For a moment, his gaze lifted from the file, and our eyes met. Those hazel eyes held a depth that unnerved me, as though he was searching for something within me. I was so lost in his eyes that I almost forgot where I was until I was told I could leave.
I walked out of the room, but my heart and mind were still trapped there. Am I falling for him? I questioned myself. No, I shouldn't. I don't even know him. But the way my heart raced in his presence was impossible to ignore.
Later, at my dorm, I checked my files, ensuring everything was in place. Panic set in when I realized a page was missing—a design I had poured my soul into. Tears welled up in my eyes. That design held a connection to something deep within me, something I couldn't explain but felt with all my heart. Exhausted and heartbroken, I fell asleep, tears streaking my face.
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Aksh's POV
The door opened, and she walked in. Her wide, innocent brown eyes locked with mine, momentarily freezing her in place. She seemed stunned, but she managed a small, nervous smile before sitting across from me.
What is she doing to me? I thought, struggling to contain the strange emotions her presence stirred. I didn't want to feel this. I couldn't.
Her portfolio was placed in front of me, and I flipped through it. The designs were exceptional—fresh, innovative, and full of potential. Her explanations were detailed and precise, showcasing her dedication. I should have been focused solely on her answers, but then I noticed a loose sheet tucked inside the file.
It stopped me cold.
It was that design—the red frock. The same one that haunted my nightmares. The one tied to the memories I couldn't piece together.
For a moment, the world around me blurred. My heart pounded, and a wave of emotions—fear, confusion, anger—washed over me. I clutched the paper tightly, desperate to understand why this design, from my most tormenting dreams, was here in her portfolio.
Who is she? I thought, my mind racing. What connection does she have to my nightmares?
I wanted answers. I wanted to demand she explain it all. But I forced myself to stay composed.
"What events in your life led you to choose a career in the fashion industry?" I asked, my voice calm despite the storm within me.
Her response was profound, but it wasn't the answer I was looking for. She spoke with passion, her words sincere, but they didn't satisfy the questions burning inside me. When she left the room, I wanted to stop her, to demand she explain everything, but I didn't.
I stayed seated, clutching the paper, my heart and mind in turmoil.
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Author's POV
Aksh left the room, his professional mask slipping the moment he was alone. He retreated to his office, pouring himself a drink to dull the chaos within him.
The glass in his hand shattered under his grip, cutting into his skin, but the pain didn't matter. It was nothing compared to the agony in his chest. The red frock design had unraveled his carefully built defenses, bringing back the torment of unanswered questions and memories he'd buried deep.
He wanted to believe the nightmares were just dreams, figments of his imagination. But seeing that design in Ahana's portfolio made it clear: the past he was running from had found him.
Clutching his bleeding hand, Aksh sat in the darkness, consumed by the shadows of his past. For the first time in years, he let the tears fall, silently pleading for an escape from the pain that had become his prison.
But deep down, a fragile hope flickered—a hope that someone might save him from himself.