LOGINMy hairstylist resumed arranging my curls."Some people feel threatened when someone they consider beneath them receives the same opportunities they have."I considered that.Perhaps she was right.Olivia had spent years being the woman Jean-Pierre personally accommodated. The private room, the attention, the special treatment.And now, for the first time, someone else had been given something she considered exclusively hers.A plus-size woman who had apparently committed the unforgivable crime of being shipped romantically with Silver Adams.I shook my head."Well, I hope she's happy."My makeup artist laughed."Happy? That witch is going to spend the entire evening watching you."I laughed."Then I hope she enjoys the show.""You really did something to her when you boldly told her you won't deny the rumours. Imagine if it turns out to be true—she would kill herself.""Yeah, me too. But I am also satisfied with that. Even if it was a lie that Silver is dating Lena—if I am Lena too,
She glared at me.I continued."Body-shaming works both ways. You've spent minutes insulting my body, calling me unhealthy, and suggesting that I'm somehow less desirable because I don't look like you."I gestured toward her."And yet, here you are, making assumptions about my health while looking as though you haven't eaten a proper meal in weeks. You are starving, sweetheart. Eat... life is short."My makeup artist gasped and giggled with my hair stylists." And ofcourse, I am not a doctor. I don't really know how healthy you are, neither do you know anything about my own health, so perhaps we should both stop pretending that we can diagnose strangers by looking at them. You don't have to find me attractive. You don't have to like my body. You don't even have to like me. I honestly don't care."I paused."But you don't get to stand in a room I graciously offered to share with you and tell me that a man should be embarrassed to be associated with me because of my size."Olivia shot t
The peace in my private room lasted only a few minutes.Because Olivia wasn't done with me."So," she said suddenly, while one of her assistants began touching up her hair, "what's the story with you and Silver Adams?"My fingers paused over my phone.I looked at her through the mirror."Excuse me?"."You are his manager, right?"I sighed internally."Yeah, what's your problem?""Why haven't you come out to deny the rumors?"I stared at her."Why should I?"She laughed."Well, of course you are enjoying the fame and attention that comes with the fake propaganda. It's embarrassing for Silver to be associated with those rumors, and if you actually care about him, you'd do the decent thing and publicly deny that you're dating."For a few seconds, I said nothing.I wanted to make sure I had heard her correctly.Then I turned fully toward her."Why is it embarrassing?"Her expression changed.She looked genuinely surprised that I had asked."Because he's not dating you! It was a rumor made
LENA'S POVI stared at her for a moment.Then I smiled politely."Oh, no. I'm not going anywhere. But we can share."She blinked."What?""The room is big enough for both of us. You can have one side, and I'll have the other. There are two mirrors, plenty of chairs, and enough space for both teams."I gestured toward the empty section of the room."Honestly, I don't see it as a problem. You are welcome to use my space."For a moment, she simply stared at me as if I had suggested that we share a toothbrush.Then she turned to her team."Did you hear that?"One of the women cleared her throat."Olivia, the coordinator specifically said this room was assigned to Lena. Jean-Pierre personally approved the arrangement."That was apparently the wrong thing to say, as Olivia's face tightened with fury."Well, Jean-Pierre clearly wasn't thinking properly when he made that decision."Well, how interesting.She had walked into a room belonging to someone else, demanded that the occupant leave, a
"Excuse me, what the hell is going on here?"Lena looked up from her phone.A tall, slender model with long, shiny, silky dark hair stood in the doorway, wearing a cream silk robe over what appeared to be a designer lingerie set.Behind her stood three women carrying makeup cases, garment bags, and an assortment of other things Lena assumed belonged to her preparation team."Is that Olivia Smith?"Lena's makeup artist whispered."Yeah. What's she doing here?"Her hair stylist whispered back."Who is she?"Lena asked in a whisper."She's one of the most favored models that has worked for Jean-Pierre's brand.""Oh I see."Lena replied.Olivia glanced around the room, then her eyes narrowed when she saw Lena seated before the mirror."Who are you?"Lena blinked."Lena.""I know your name. I'm asking who the hell you are to be in my room."Lena blinked again."I'm sorry?"Olivia stepped further into the room, stopping in front of Lena."You don't look deaf, but I don't judge by looks, so
AUTHOR'S POV(A WEEK LATER)---It was D-day in Paris, France.And tonight, the world of fashion was about to witness something it had spent far too long pretending wasn't possible.A real plus-size woman was going to walk the runway for one of the most prestigious fashion houses in the world.The first plus-size model to walk for Jean-Pierre's exclusive Paris fashion show.And that model would be Lena.---The show was being held at the Grand Palais Éphémère, an architectural masterpiece near the Eiffel Tower that had hosted some of the most coveted fashion events in Paris. For tonight, the venue had been transformed into a breathtaking sight with crystal lighting, beautiful floral installations, and a gleaming black catwalk that reflected like liquid obsidian.But that wasn't all. Rows of seats were reserved for fashion editors, celebrities from around the globe, luxury brand executives, and some of the most influential people in the industry.Luxury cars pulled up one after another
I forced myself up and walked back into the bedroom Mitch and I had shared for three years of our marriage. I hadn’t slept in that bed for over two years now. Not since I left it. Every morning, he used to wake me up to complain about my snoring. I apologized. Then… I started staying awake
You will never truly understand heartbreak until it comes from the same man who once adored you—who protected you, who loved you without hesitation. “What’s the number?” My husband’s voice came from the doorway. I flinched and looked up. That’s how sad my life had become—the usual routine of ste
The message I sent to my husband Mitch was left unanswered. Just like the ones I sent days ago… weeks ago. He had stopped replying to my texts. I scrolled through the one-sided conversation, my heart tightening at how pathetic it looked. Suddenly, a message popped up. Hoping it was his reply, I
I met Mitch fifteen years ago at a coffee shop. I was sixteen, working as a store assistant and trying to look like I had my life together. I still remember what I wore that day. A faded white sundress scattered with tiny yellow flowers. Sandals laced around my ankles. Mitch was standing in







