four

                                        

                                              


.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。
𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐀
𝗩𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗡𝗔
I walked into the venue, the brochure hanging loosely from my hands, as flashes went off everywhere around me. Cameras clicked rapidly while I navigated through the seats toward the front row. 
Glancing down to check my seat number, I carefully made my way through the crowd, offering polite smiles and greetings to a few familiar faces along the way.
I was here for Versace's 2019 Summer Collection fashion show, mainly to support Bella, who was closing, but also because I genuinely loved seeing new designs and pieces. And when Versace personally invited me, how could I say no?
As the man guiding me through the rows neared my seat, I glanced ahead to see who I'd be sitting next to. The moment I realized, my posture immediately straightened. Anna Wintour.
A legend in the fashion world, no doubt, but to me, she was even more than that. She had worked closely with my grandmother, and their relationship spanned decades. If there was anyone in this industry who held the same level of admiration and respect I had for my grandmother, it was her.
I took a deep breath as I approached my seat, flashes still going off. My nerves were visible, but I did my best to mask them.
"Hi." I greeted cheerily, a polite smile on my face as I waved.
Anna looked up, her expression instantly softening into a smile. Relief washed over me. "Vienna," she greeted warmly, setting down her brochure. Her signature posh accent peeked through as she continued, "It's wonderful to see you. How have you been?"
The man leading the way gestured to my seat, and I thanked him before sitting down. Anna subtly shifted to make space for me, despite the empty space beside me.
Hopefully, whoever takes that seat is someone I know, because right now, I probably look as rigid as ice sitting next to Anna.
"I've been good." I replied, turning to her with a smile as I removed my sunglasses. "Just fashion monthing it up."
Anna let out a light laugh. "On, what, like the third of the week now?"
"I know. Can't complain, though." I said, finally getting comfortable in my seat.
She nodded as the flashes continued, and for a moment, we both turned to the photographers, offering them a few polite smiles.
"Are you strictly front row this season?" Anna asked, gesturing toward our seats.
"Yeah," I nodded. "Just supporting from afar, I guess. Could never be me up there," motioning to the runway. 
Anna tilted her head slightly, as if considering my words, before sighing. "I remember how much your grandmother wanted you to model. 'Look at those legs,' she would say whenever she showed me a photo of you."
I let out a soft laugh. "Her and her fantasies."
"She would be proud of you, though." Anna said, her tone softer, more sincere. "Mirielle is on an uprising right now."
Her words made me smile. "Thank you."
Our conversation naturally faded as we both turned our attention to the chaos around us, flashes everywhere, people scrambling to find their seats, shouting over the music.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Anna turn in my direction again. Thinking she was about to say something to me, I subtly tilted my head toward her—but she wasn't looking at me.