Chapter 11 – A New Anchor

                The weekend after Amy and Jor’s visit settled into a rhythm, one I desperately sought to control.

                Talking through everything, and especially losing Anderson for good, strangely left me feeling a bit lighter, even if it was a fragile kind of relief. It was a fresh, aching wound, but at least it was clean, unlike the festering uncertainty that had preceded it.

                I channeled every ounce of that fierce energy into my work, seeking solace and purpose in the relentless demands of my budding career. My desk became my battlefield, my projects my victories. I stayed late, fueled by hot coffee and an almost obsessive need for distraction, poring over new designs and reports until the city outside my window had long quieted into slumber.

                One day Margie walked into my office with a plate of fresh fruit. Ohh, I forgot to mention, this friend of mine is a health freak.

                “Anna, please take care of yourself,” she urged with a worried look on her face.

                 I gratefully took the plate from her, I knew that these vitamins were truly needed. Sometimes I even forgot to eat, and that was absolutely not good.

                “Thank you for taking care of me, Margie. I think I would have fallen ill without you around.”

                We chatted for about half an hour before we headed back to our respective duties.

                Each successfully completed task, each new challenge overcome, was a small, hard-won triumph, a testament to a strength I hadn't realized I still possessed. My colleagues noticed, commenting on my new drive, my focused intensity. It was a shield, a new anchor in a life that had been violently unmoored too many times.

                Sometimes, in the quiet moments between meetings, or as I walked home through the bustling city streets, a sharp, unbidden memory would surface – Axel’s laugh, Anderson’s gentle touch. A familiar ache would bloom in my chest, threatening to engulf me.

                But I had learned to fight back.

                 I pushed the thoughts down, ruthlessly redirecting my focus to the next deadline, the next task.

                ‘This is not who I am anymore,’ I'd tell myself, a mantra against the rising tide of sorrow. ‘I build. I endure. I do not break.’

                The grief for Anderson, fresh and searing, still intertwined with the unhealed wound of Axel's brutal murder, tightening its icy grip around my heart, but I wouldn't let it paralyze me.

                One crisp Tuesday morning, as I stepped out of the coffee shop, the rich aroma of roasted beans filling the air, a fleeting wisp of it hit me. Not coffee, not the usual city smells.

                It was that scent!

                The extraordinary, mind-blowing male scent from the club. It was unmistakable, yet gone as quickly as it came, like a phantom limb ache. My head snapped up, my eyes darting through the dispersing morning crowd, but there was nothing.

                 Just the usual commuters, rushing past, oblivious.

                I shook my head, a scoff of self-reproach escaping my lips. My mind was playing tricks on me, haunted by the memory of a night spent trying to forget. It was just the lingering ghost of the club, perhaps clinging to my coat or hair. I reasoned it away, pushing the strange sensation down with the same determined will I used to banish the thoughts of Anderson.

                My dedication at work soon paid off, though not in the way I expected.

                Once in my office, the manager, Mr. Andrew, approached me with an incredibly exciting opportunity. It was a high-profile modeling contract with a newly launched luxury brand called 'Lunar Crest Fashions'.

                 The name itself carried a faint, ancient power, it was just out of reach, like something I should’ve known but didn’t.

                Mr. Andrew beamed, his enthusiasm infectious.

                "They specifically asked for you, Anna. Said they had observed your work for a long time and found your presence 'captivating.' This is a huge step up, a chance to truly shine in the industry."

                He handed me the portfolio as if it were a pot of gold.

                “From the first time I saw you that day you came into my office, I knew you would make it. You are our blockbuster; every design you showcased was sold out.”

                I briefly studied the first pages and accepted without hesitation, a genuine spark of excitement igniting within me. This project, demanding and visually driven, promised to consume my days and evenings, leaving little room for introspection or lingering grief. It was a perfect escape, a new frontier to conquer.

                The news was burning a hole in me. I had to tell my best friends.

Immediately I called Jor and Amy to share in my success, my fingers fumbling with excitement. Amy answered first, her voice a cheerful burst of static.

                "Anna! What's up, girl? You sound excited!" she exclaimed.

"You won't believe it!" I practically burst, the words tumbling out. "I just got offered a modeling contract with Lunar Crest Fashions! It's huge, Amy, they're like, top-tier luxury."

                "No way!" Amy shrieked, a wave of pure delight washing over the phone line. "Lunar Crest?! Oh my goddess, that's amazing, Anna! I'm so incredibly proud of you! See? Good things do happen."

                "I know, right?" I laughed, a genuine, joyful sound I hadn't made in weeks. "Mr. Andrew said they've been watching my work for a while, and they specifically asked for me. Can you believe it?"

                "I totally can," Amy retorted firmly. "When you’re on the money, you're stunning, and you've got that fierce grit. They'd be crazy not to want you. This is awesome. We are definitely coming over to celebrate, and help you get ready for whatever's next. You can count on us!"

                Just then, I heard Jor's voice in the background, a little fainter. "Tell her congratulations from me too! And we'll be there as soon as Alpha Rick signs our permits to leave!"

                "Thanks, girls. Seriously, you two are the best. I don't know what I'd do without you." Their strong support was a beacon in the vast emotional sea I was still finding my way through.

                That week, I found myself navigating the glamorous, fast-paced world of high fashion, posing under bright lights, and interacting with new faces.

                The new environment, the buzzing energy of creativity, was a welcome distraction.

Yet, sometimes, in the bustling studios, or walking through the corridors of the Lunar Crest building, that faint, almost imperceptible whisper of that unique scent would tease my senses again.

                It was always fleeting, always elusive.

                I'd pause, take a deeper breath, try to pinpoint its origin among the perfumes and styling products on the various dressers. But it would vanish, leaving me to wonder if it was truly real, or just a lingering phantom of a desperate night, a trick of a mind still healing.

                 I told myself it was my imagination, a remnant of a heightened sensory experience from the club. I had to believe it was.

                For now, the logical explanation was the only one I would allow.