Francesca nodded, a smile tugging at her lips. “Of course.”
She left to carry out my instructions, and I set the card aside, my fingers lingering on the delicate script, one I’d always recognized, no matter the years. The flowers—the same ones I’d received every birthday for the last five years, even on my graduation day—were always peonies. Few knew they were my favorite. Their beauty and delicacy always touched me. Then it hit me: there was only one person who truly understood their significance.Ronan Romano.How had I not noticed sooner?
“You ready for this, Nina?” Inaya’s voice broke through my thoughts, her expression a mix of excitement and reassurance.
I took a steadying breath, meeting her gaze with determination. “Absolutely.”
“Did we order extra flowers?” Inaya’s voice barely registered asI gazed down at the card in my hand.
“Nina!”
Her shout snapped me back to reality. “What?”
“You’re crushing the card.”
I looked down at the crumpled paper, releasing it with a soft, frustrated curse. “Fuck.” I straightened, my thoughts catching up with my actions. “What were you saying?”
“I asked about the flowers, but never mind,” Inaya said, exasperated.
I rubbed a hand through my hair, letting out a long breath.
“We’re all set at the venue. Models are being prepped, and everything’s ready,” she reassured me.
“Okay.”
Inaya gave me a once-over, then said, “Take a minute to breathe. You’re flustered. The car’s waiting to take you to the venue when you’re ready.”
“Okay.” I tucked the crumpled note into my drawer, gathered my things, and headed out, determined to make this night everything it needed to be.
I arrived at the venue and quickly checked everything—lights, sound, and staging were perfect. Inaya had prepped the models, but I made my rounds, ensuring they were physically ready and mentally confident. The models ranged in size, showcasing the diversity I’d always dreamed of—no body type left out and different cultures accounted for. A few were nervous, but I reassured them, reminding them how stunning they looked in the designs I’d spent months perfecting.
Once the final checks were done, I got ready. Makeup, hair, and the dress I had chosen for myself all felt surreal. By the time I was finished, I could feel my heart racing as I stepped out intothe backstage area.
The murmurs from the crew grew louder, and I could hear the whispers about me being “on the verge of tears.” I couldn’t blame them. Seeing my life’s work finally come to fruition—the designs, the hard work, everything—made me want to sit down and cry. There was a lingering doubt, a small voice whispering,Do you really deserve this?But I shoved it down. I had fought for this. I had earned every moment, every step.
I peeked through the curtain, taking in the runway. Its simple elegance perfectly matched theEmbrace Alltheme. The décor was understated yet impactful, tying everything together. The unexpected peonies added a touch of beauty I hadn’t realized was missing.
As the crowd filed in and cameras flashed, my breath caught. The press—the media—there were so many. I hadn’t expected this much attention. I thought I might pass out. But as the energy built, my nerves shifted into something else. For the first time, I wasn’t scared. I was ready.
The show began, and Inaya took center stage as the moderator, standing tall in the deep red abaya I had spent nearly three weeks creating. The silk draped effortlessly, intricate embroidery catching the light as she spoke with confidence.
Then, the models stepped onto the runway.
It was beautiful. Perfect.
Each piece moved exactly as I envisioned—flowing silks, structured suits, beadwork that caught the light just right. Every design told a story, celebrating diversity in a way that felt so much bigger than me. I stood out of sight, my hands clasped together, my heart thundering. The crowd’s reaction was overwhelming. Cheers, gasps, murmurs of admiration. I stole glances at the audience, catching flashes of emotion—some in awe, some deeply moved, others nodding in appreciation.
Then came the final men’s segment—a powerful, commandingclose to the main show. The tailored pieces, sharp cuts, and fluid fabrics combined masculinity and grace in a way that had the audience enraptured. Every detail, from the walk to the music, unfolded like a dream.
And then, it was my time.
I smoothed my hands over my emerald dress, the fabric rich beneath my fingers. The nerves were back, crawling up my spine, but before they could consume me, Inaya’s hand brushed mine. “This is your time to shine, Nina.”
I nodded, swallowing hard. “Let’s make history, Aya.”
Then, she stepped onto the stage again. Her voice carried through the room, warm and powerful. “Tonight, you’ve witnessed a dream come to life. A vision brought forth by a woman whose talent, dedication, and heart have made not only a collection, but a statement that embraces beauty in all its forms. It is my honor to introduce the woman behind it all... Nina Moretti.”
The applause was deafening.
