The Miami skyline glows in the distance as I step onto the balcony of my penthouse, the cool night breeze brushing against my skin, carrying with it the faint scent of salt and distant music from the city below. Tonight should feel like a victory, another milestone in my career, yet my mind buzzes with a hundred thoughts, each louder than the next, refusing to let me enjoy the moment. I lean against the railing, staring at the city lights, thinking about the show, the people, the pressure. Sometimes, it feels like I'm trapped in a never-ending cycle of perfection, like every moment I let my guard down, someone is waiting to take my place. It's exhausting, but I can't stop. I won't.
A soft knock on the balcony door pulls me from my thoughts. I turn to see Camila, barefoot, holding a glass of wine, her dark hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders. She steps outside, leaning against the railing beside me, offering the glass with a knowing smile.
"You're thinking too much again", she says, her voice light, teasing, but there's warmth in it too.
I take the glass, sipping slowly, letting the taste linger on my tongue. "I can't help it", I admit, my eyes still fixed on the glittering city below. "There's always something. Another show, another interview, another expectation".
Camila nudges me playfully, a small laugh escaping her lips. "You're killing it, Alessia. You're nineteen and already the face of the biggest agency in Miami. You have the looks, the talent, and the work ethic, stop doubting yourself".
I glance at her, offering a small smile. "You always know what to say".
She shrugs, her hazel eyes shining under the city lights. "Of course I do, what are best friends are for".
Her words ease the tension in my chest, even if only for a moment. We stand there in silence, sipping our drinks, the city stretching endlessly before us, like a reminder of how far we've come. Suddenly, the balcony door slides open again, and Jason steps out, his suit jacket draped over his shoulder, looking effortlessly put together, like always. "Hope I'm not interrupting", he says, his voice smooth, his blue eyes flicking between the two of us.
Camila smirks, raising her glass. "Just a little sisterly pep talk".
Jason steps closer, resting his elbows on the railing, his gaze settling on me. "You were great tonight, Alessia, really".
I exhale, relieved at his words. "Thanks, that means a lot".
Jason watches me carefully, as if searching for something beneath my confident exterior. "You okay?" he asks, his tone softer now.
I nod quickly, forcing a smile. "Yeah. Justā¦ tired".
He studies me for a moment before nodding, seemingly satisfied. "Good. Because tomorrow's going to be another long day".
I groan, rolling my eyes. "Don't remind me".
Camila laughs, clinking her glass against mine. "Another day, another runway".
Jason smirks, ruffling my hair like I'm still his little sister and not one of the most in-demand models in Miami. "Get some sleep, kid".
He heads inside, leaving me alone with Camila once more. She watches him disappear into the penthouse, a thoughtful look on her face. "He really looks out for you", she says quietly. I smile, warmth spreading through me. "Yeah. He always has."
Camila hums in agreement, finishing her drink. "Alright, superstar, I'm heading to bed, try not to stay up overthinking everything".
I laugh, giving her a playful nudge. "No promises".
As she disappears inside, I stay outside a little longer, the city lights twinkling like tiny stars below. I tell myself I'm lucky to have themāJason, Camilaāpeople I can trust, people who know me better than anyone. But deep down, there's still that nagging feeling I can't shake.
The next morning starts early, the soft chime of my alarm pulling me from sleep far too soon. I groan, stretching as the golden Miami sun filters through the curtains, painting the room in warm hues. I roll out of bed and head to the bathroom, staring at my reflection in the mirror. Dark lashes frame my green eyes, my skin glowing under the soft lighting. I look flawless, as always. It's expected of me. No room for flaws, no room for anything less than perfection.
By the time I step into the agency's sleek glass doors, the day is already in full swing. Models rush past, assistants chatter into phones, designers argue over fabrics. It's chaos, but I thrive in it Vincent DeLuca stands near the front, talking to a group of executives, his sharp gaze finding me the second I walk in. A slow smile spreads across his lips, and I force myself to return it, even though something about him always makes my skin crawl.
"Alessia", he calls, waving me over. "You're just in time".
I walk over, keeping my posture perfect, my smile effortlessly charming. "Morning, Vincent". He looks me over, his gaze lingering a little too long. "Looking stunning, as always".
I bite back the urge to roll my eyes, instead offering a polite nod. "Thank you".
Vincent motions to the executive beside him. "We're discussing the next campaign. You're the star, of course".
I nod, pretending to be excited, though I've heard this speech a hundred times before.
Behind me, I hear Jason's voice, and I turn to see him talking with a group of models, his presence commanding as always. Camila stands beside him, laughing at something he said, and for a moment, I feel at ease.
Until I hear whispers.
"She's everywhere", one model mutters to another, eyes flicking toward me. "It's like no one else exists
I pretend not to hear, but the words dig into me, a reminder of the constant jealousy that follows success. I keep my head high, my steps confident as I walk past them, but inside, the doubts creep in. Camila joins me in the dressing room a few minutes later, tossing a designer dress onto the chair beside me. "Ignore them", she says, reading my mind like always.
I sigh, shaking my head. "It's part of the job".
Camila sits beside me, fixing her hair in the mirror. "Yeah, but you deserve this, Alessia, you've worked for it. Don't let them get to you".
I smile, grateful for her, grateful for Jason, grateful for this lifeāeven if it comes with its fair share of pressure. As I slip into the dress, ready for another long day of flashing cameras and endless expectations, I remind myself that I've got this.
I always do.