Sunlight filters through the curtains, illuminating walls adorned with high-fashion photographs. Heather, a 35-year-old stunning model with long black hair, hazel eyes, and facial structure of a beauty goddess, stands before a full-length mirror, a mix of beauty and fragility. She scrutinises her reflection, revealing scars left by a tumultuous life in the limelight.These days, she barely recognises herself. The gloss of fame is slowly fading, leaving only the reflections of past wounds.She glances at her phone, an incoming message from her agent, but she hesitates, sighing heavily. She was supposed to attend some art display event but she doesn't feel like stepping out, mainly because there's a dating rumor about her yet again and she'd give anything to escape the desperate journalist and media waiting very impatiently to flood her with questions. She's almost more popular for her dating scandals than for her actual modelling career. It's always one scandal to another and if you ask her, becoming a model and somehow joining the entertainment industry is not the best thing that happened to her but life happens and at this stage of her life it longer exactly matters what she's been doing with her life all these years.She stared dreamily into the reflection of her orbs in the mirror before walking into her closet to get dressed for the event her agent texted to remind her of.
__
As she slipped on her tailored, beige coat, the soft fabric draping elegantly across her shoulders, she felt a sense of refined sophistication wash over her. Beneath the coat, a silk blouse in a subtle, ivory hue peeked out, its delicate sheen catching the light. A pair of high-waisted, black trousers completed her outfit, their sleek lines and crisp creases a testament to her impeccable taste. Around her neck, a strand of luminous pearls glimmered, their soft lustre complementing the understated elegance of her overall look. With her dark hair polished to a sleek, low bun and her features subtly enhanced by a natural, earth-toned makeup palette, she was a vision of poise and refinement, ready to elegantly make an appearance at the art display event when she was an art herself.
___________
An elegant setting filled with rich art and the hum of affluent guests. Valentin Alessio, a 26-year-old, tall, striking man with long, shoulder-length hair and piercing grey eyes, commands the room. He wears a perfectly tailored suit and exudes confidence. Despite his undeniable charm, there's an undercurrent of loneliness in his demeanour; born into this world of privilege, he often wonders if anyone sees him for who he truly is. He has danced through life's parties, but the music feels hollow. He craves something real.
He scans the crowd, and his gaze lands on Heather. She's radiant, but sadness lingers in her eyes, or he just stared too much.Valentin approaches Heather, a charming smile on his lips."You're a vision tonight." Heather turns, her breath catching. She's seen him in tabloids, a figure of elegance. Yet his presence is warm, not intimidating.
"And you're quite the sight yourself. The way you carry the weight of your family's legacy with such grace... It's impressive." It's okay to say that despite this being the first time they're actually meeting, she has always envied him. He's the nation's treasure, belonging to the family whose wealth basically holds the nation up high, but that's not why she envies him; it's mainly about him having it all figured out at a young age, mostly about him having a positive fame unlike her.
They share a knowing look, a moment of vulnerability in an otherwise pretentious setting.
"I'm Valentin."
"I know, I mean, who doesn't know the nation's treasure?" He chuckled at her response.
"Since everyone knows the name of the nation's treasure, would you grant me the honour of knowing the name of the universe's goddess?"
"Such a sweet talker you are. I'm Heather."
"Heather," he said ever so charmingly, and Heather has never loved her name so much until that exact moment.
The rest of the event passed in a blur, as though the only clear vision they both had from that moment on was of each other.
______
Heather returns home, the loud chatter of the gallery still echoing in her ears. She sits on her couch, sinking into the silence. She thinks of Valentin's captivating grey eyes.
"It's impressive that he's not the regular rude-rich-brat." She mutters to herself, still replaying their encounter in her head.