ELYRA.The studio had never looked this alive before.Five days.Just five days before my second fashion show, and every single corner of the building carried the kind of energy I had spent months preparing for. People moved around with urgency, voices overlapped from different directions, fabrics draped over mannequins like unfinished dreams, and somewhere in the distance, I could hear Jane dishing instructions to some of the junior staff.Honestly, I had stopped trying to keep track.I stood near the fitting room mirrors with my arms folded, watching one of the models adjust the sleeve of a fitted champagne-colored dress.“No,” I said quickly, walking toward her. “Don’t pull it that way.”The model paused.I stepped closer and gently adjusted the fabric myself.“The sleeve falls naturally,” I explained. “If you force it, the structure changes.”“Oh,” she said, nodding quickly. “Sorry.”“You’re fine,” I told her with a small smile. “Just relax your shoulders.”She obeyed, and instant
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