Not the Right Fit
But then she noticed something—something on my face.
In the past, any time I had to go out in public, I'd hire a makeup artist to cover the scars. I'd keep my head down, avoid the cameras, avoid the stares.
But not today.
My face was bare. No makeup. No shame. And my expression—was confident.
"Johnny… your face…"
Before she could finish, Leila called out from across the hall, waving at me.
"Johnny, we're up next!"
I didn't want to waste another second with them. I gave her a calm, even look and replied, "As you can see. And Sylvie—newsflash: not everything in the world revolves around you."
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