LOGINThe day ended without my attention. Good thing Azeirah got my back and would always do something before anyone in the team could notice. I'm not in usual myself. I hated to admit but my mind keeps coming back to the house. "Do you mind if I come over to your place tonight?" Azeirah's voice echoed as we walked towards our own cars. Some of the staff exchanged looks intrigued, some smiled while blushing. If this was like the other days, I'd make sure to clear every malicious thoughts they have... But it isn't... I wasn't okay. And I know myself too well. I'd waste my time wondering how I could get back the house, so I nodded even before I could check if people are watching. Azeirah's face lit up before turning to talk to her assitant. "You can go now. I'll just have my personal driver pick me up at Ena's place later." Her assitant nodded and left. Then Azeirah walked towards me excitedly. "Let's cook, what do you want for dinner?" For a moment I thought about Aria. After
The elevator doors slid open just as my phone vibrated again. I didn't move. For a moment, I simply stood there while people walked past me, stepping around me without complaint. Somewhere behind me, someone politely cleared their throat, waiting for me to leave the elevator. Only then did I step aside. The notification was from Xavier. No new message. Just the photograph I had asked him to send. My thumb hovered above it before I finally opened the image. It wasn't a picture of the house. It was a screenshot from the real estate listing. A clean white interface. Several professionally taken photographs. The front garden. The living room. The kitchen. The master bedroom. I knew every corner before the next image even appeared. I remembered where we had argued over the color of the dining chairs. I remembered insisting the living room needed larger windows because I wanted more sunlight. I remembered laughing when Aria said I was designing the house like I intended to
The search results appeared almost immediately. For a long moment... I simply stared at the screen. There it was. A familiar photograph greeted me before I even opened the listing. The white exterior. The large windows Aria insisted on despite my complaints that they would be impossible to keep clean. The balcony overlooking the quiet street. Nothing had changed. Even through a screen, I recognized it instantly. I tapped the listing. Several professionally taken photographs loaded one after another. The living room, the kitchen, the staircase leading to the second floor, our bedroom. I swallowed. The furniture had been rearranged. Some decorations were gone. The walls looked emptier than I remembered. It no longer looked like a home. It looked like a property. Abandoned A place waiting for strangers. I continued scrolling. The backyard came into view. The same garden where we had once spent an entire afternoon planting flowers none of us knew how to take care of. Mos
The screen remained illuminated long after my thumb stopped moving. I stared at Xavier's message without blinking. I didn't want to tell you before because I knew you'd ignore it. But... I think you deserve to know. Another message followed. Aria listed the house for sale. Nothing else. No explanation. No context. Just those six words. My eyes remained fixed on the screen as though reading them enough times would somehow change them. It didn't. I slowly locked my phone and slipped it into my coat pocket before stepping out of my apartment. The cold Zurich morning met me immediately. Normally, I enjoyed walking the short distance toward the waiting car. It helped clear my mind before another day of meetings and rehearsals. Today... I barely noticed the city around me. The driver greeted me when I entered the car. "Good morning, Miss Garden." I looked toward him, forcing a polite smile. "Morning." He asked whether I wanted the usual route. I simply nodded. Outside
The days that followed barely gave me enough time to notice where one city ended and another began. One morning, I was in Paris for a jewelry editorial. The next evening, I was already boarding a flight to Copenhagen for a private presentation hosted by one of Maisön Étoile's long-time clients. Somewhere in between, Zurich's management informed me that three additional luxury brands had requested meetings before the year ended. I had stopped counting the interviews. Stopped counting the flights. Stopped counting how many hotel rooms I had temporarily called home. The pace was exhausting. Yet strangely... I found comfort in it. Every schedule waiting on my desk meant I was moving forward. Every campaign reminded me why I had accepted Zurich's offer. There was no room to hesitate anymore. Only room to improve. "You've become impossible to book." My manager smiled as he handed me another itinerary one afternoon. "We've started declining projects." I looked up from my tab
The whole campaign launched and ended quietly. At least, that was what Maisön Étoile intended. There was no extravagant premiere or countdown. The first photographs simply appeared across the brand's official platforms one Tuesday morning, accompanied by a short caption introducing the anniversary collection. By noon, the internet had done the rest. I woke to dozens of notifications waiting on my phone. Most came from Zurich's communications team. Others were from fashion magazines requesting interviews, photographers asking for availability, and international publications hoping to feature the campaign in their editorials. My assistant stood beside the breakfast table with a tablet in one hand and an apologetic smile. "I think today will be busy." "I anticipated." She turned the screen toward me. The first image filled the display. Azeirah and I sat on opposite ends of an old wooden balcony overlooking Stockholm's harbor. None of us looked at the camera. She was reading a
Mornings with Aria were different.Not dramatic. Not rushed. Just… steady.I woke up before her that day, the light barely slipping through the curtains, the house still wrapped in quiet. She was on her side, facing away from me, one arm tucked beneath the pillow, breathing slow and even. Her hair
Stability doesn’t announce itself.It doesn’t come with fireworks or applause. It settles quietly, like dust in the corners of a room you’ve lived in long enough to stop noticing. That was how the days with Aria began to feel—steady, almost deceptively simple.And yet, every morning I woke up aware
The days that followed slipped into me quietly. Not all at once. Not dramatically. They settled the way warmth does after you step inside from the cold—slow, unannounced, until you realize you’re no longer bracing yourself. The first few mornings felt unreal. I’d wake up disoriented, reaching in
Our days began to take shape in ways I didn’t expect. Not grand, cinematic ways—but steady ones. The kind you only notice when you pause long enough to realize you’re no longer improvising every hour of your life. Mornings started with shared silence. Coffee brewing. Aria scanning through article







