𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑...

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。
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.

She was looking past me, a rare, wide smile spreading across her face.

I followed her gaze, and the second I saw who she was looking at, I froze. If I had been rigid before, I was completely immobile now.

"Oh, Zayn!" Anna gushed, rising slightly from her seat to greet him with a side hug.

I barely heard anything else. My ears were ringing.

Zayn must have noticed me staring because, just as he was about to respond to Anna, his eyes flickered downward—locking onto mine.

For a brief second, he looked just as startled as I felt. His eyes widened slightly, and before he could say anything, before I could even process the moment, I quickly turned away, staring forward in the most unnaturally stiff posture imaginable.

My body tensed as I crossed my legs, pretending to focus on absolutely nothing, while Anna and Zayn continued their conversation in the background.

It was almost funny. Zayn knew how nervous I got around Anna, even though we'd met plenty of times. I would always overanalyze every interaction we had, and he had to hear about it every single time.

"You're overthinking." Zayn would always say.

Easy for him to say. Anna practically fell at his feet.

"Where are you sitting, hon?" I heard Anna ask, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

"Oh, um... A13." Zayn responded.

I was A12.

The photographers were probably having a field day with this.

From the corner of my eye, I saw his gaze flicker from the empty seat beside me to me. I tried so hard to keep my eyes forward.

"Oh, that's perfect. You're right next to Vienna." Anna said with a smile, gesturing to the empty space beside me.

I couldn't exactly expect Anna to know about my hi온라인카지노게임 with Zayn, but then again, wasn't she the editor of Vogue?

The worst part wasn't even that he was sitting next to me. It was the fact that these weren't actual seats, they were benches. Which meant everyone was practically on top of each other.

This was definitely not how I'd envisioned seeing him again after nine months apart.

"Yeah." Zayn muttered, scratching the back of his neck as he glanced at the seat beside me.

"I'll get out of your hair, let you get comfortable," Anna said, giving Zayn's shoulder a light squeeze before returning to her seat, this time, much closer to me. I shifted slightly to the right, but there wasn't much room to move.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Zayn hesitating, either debating whether to sit or just stalling. Eventually, he sat down. And to say we were squished would be an understatement.

Anna was taking up even more space than before, but obviously, asking Anna Wintour to scoot down wasn't an option.

We weren't uncomfortably close, just close enough that our elbows brushed. But seriously, who in their right mind came up with this seating arrangement?

But then Anna turned to speak to the person next to her, which meant she shifted even more into my space. Again.

I reluctantly scooted down a little, making sure she had enough room. And, of course, that meant I was now in Zayn's space.

"Sorry." I mumbled as I adjusted myself, brushing my hands over my lap before finally looking up, anywhere but at his face.

"It's okay." Zayn muttered back. Hearing his voice in person after so long felt strange. Familiar yet distant.

Around us, the chaos slowly settled as the lights over the crowd dimmed, not completely, but just enough. A soft glow illuminated the runway, signaling that the show was about to begin.

"Not sure if I'm going to be pleased or disappointed." Anna whispered, leaning over to me.

I let out a forced, awkward laugh, not really sure how to respond.

The moment she leaned back into position, my smile faded, and I stared straight ahead, pressing my lips together, closing my eyes for a brief moment. My eyes flickered around the room as the awkwardness settled in.

Why the actual fuck did I let out that laugh?

As my eyes flickered around the room, I caught Zayn watching me. He must've seen that interaction.

The show began, and one by one, the models walked out. I studied each outfit carefully as they passed. As a fashion designer, analyzing other designers' work always inspired me. That was something my grandmother had instilled in me, be humble and appreciate others' artistry. I took her words to heart. After all, she had transformed Maison Rosier into one of the world's top luxury brands.

I tried to stay focused, but it was difficult with Zayn sitting right beside me. I could feel his leg bouncing up and down, most likely in impatience.

He never liked fashion shows. He admitted that once. The only show he ever claimed to enjoy was mine. But I knew he had just said that because it was my first.

The show went on, but Zayn's impatience only became more obvious. Whether it was stretching, bobbing his head in boredom, or looking anywhere but the runway, he made no effort to hide it.

Not that anyone would bat an eye. He was Zayn Malik, after all.

But when he started drumming his fingers against his thigh, more focused on his own leg than the show, something in me snapped. I didn't know why it annoyed me so much, but it did.

I glanced at his thigh, then at him, trying to communicate my frustration through looks alone.

Sensing my stare, he lifted his gaze from his lap and furrowed his brows at me, the faintest grimace on his face. A silent what?

I motioned toward the runway, silently telling him to pay attention.

Zayn let out a quiet, annoyed huff, predictable, before going right back to ignoring the show. I forced myself to tune him out and focus on the collection again.

After a while, the final act began, which meant Bella would be walking out any minute.

"If I'm not mistaken, Bella's closing, right?" Anna asked, turning toward me.

Both Zayn and I instinctively looked in her direction.

"She is." I confirmed with a nod.

Anna hummed in satisfaction before shifting her attention to Zayn. "What about Gigi? She's not in the show?"

I leaned back slightly, giving Zayn space to answer.

He cleared his throat. "Uh, no, she isn't," he said, scratching the scruff on his jaw, looking mildly uncomfortable with the question.

Anna nodded once more before turning back to the runway.

As the final act neared its end, I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out my phone. The screen lit up, and my lock screen, a photo of Devin and I, flashed brightly in the dim lighting.

A coincidence, maybe. But just as I unlocked my phone, I heard it.

A scoff.

I turned my head, immediately suspicious. And, of course, Zayn wasn't even trying to hide the fact that he was staring at my screen.

I shot him a look before turning back to my phone, ignoring him as I opened the camera app.

As soon as Bella walked out, my phone shot up, instantly recording. A smile spread across my face, probably taking up all of it.

She moved effortlessly, her eyes locked straight ahead, focused on the runway. She wore a stunning long black dress, cinched at the waist with a gold chain belt. My phone followed her every step as she glided down the catwalk.

When she struck her pose at the end of the runway, my smile grew even wider. But as she turned to walk back, her eyes flickered toward my section for the briefest moment.

For half a second, just half a second, her eyes widened. Not enough for the whole room to notice, but I definitely did.

And I knew exactly why. It was almost laughable.

As Bella disappeared backstage, the curtains closed, signaling the end of the show. A wave of applause swept through the room, growing louder as Alessandro Michele, Gucci's creative director, stepped onto the runway.

The crowd rose to their feet, some clapping enthusiastically, others capturing the moment on their phones. I clapped, smiling as Alessandro gave a humble nod then walked backstage.

Anna leaned in slightly. "Well, that collection was something," she murmured.

I simply nodded, still feeling the tension beside me. I could sense Zayn shifting in his seat, no doubt eager to leave.

As the applause began to die down, people started gathering their things, preparing to head out. I was about to lock my phone and slip it back into my coat pocket before I got a text.

bella: you better get your ass backstage and explain everything

I exhaled sharply through my nose, already anticipating the interrogation I was about to walk into. Bella didn't waste time, she never did.

I locked my phone and slipped it into my pocket before adjusting my coat.

Anna was engaged in conversation with Zayn. I could feel his presence, but I refused to acknowledge it.

I stood up, smoothing down my outfit. Anna gave me a quick questioning look.

"I'm heading out. Duty calls. " I told Anna with a soft smile. "Nice to see you again."

"Wonderful to catch up with you." She glanced up, pushing her sunglasses down just enough to look at me directly. "Give Bella my congratulations."

"I will," I nodded, before glancing, very briefly, at Zayn.

It was more out of habit than intention. A small, polite farewell, but the second our eyes met, I regretted it.

I turned on my heel and made my way toward the exit leading backstage. But just as I was about to reach it, I heard footsteps behind me.

"Vienna."

I froze.

There were only two people I allowed to call me by my full name. Plenty of people used it, and I almost always corrected them. The media? I didn't mind—they didn't know me personally. But anyone else? I preferred Vi.

Except for two people. My grandmother and Zayn.

I turned around at the familiar sound of my name coming from his voice, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion as I saw him standing behind me.

"Yeah?" I asked, trying my best to keep my tone steady.

Zayn cleared his throat and glanced around. The place was secluded, so we didn't have to worry about paparazzi catching us.

"I just wanted to say sorry for the hate you're getting from Abel's new song. I honestly didn't know it would cause this much commotion."

I stood there for a moment, processing his words. The fact that Zayn was apologizing, was talking to me after all this time, felt almost surreal. It was like the last nine months hadn't even happened.

"It's okay." I said, my voice barely above a whisper, unsure of how to feel. Part of me wanted to be angry, but another part of me appreciated that he was acknowledging it at all.

Right when Zayn opened his mouth to respond, the backstage door suddenly shot open. I turned around to see Bella, her expression more shocked than both Zayn and I combined.

She shot Zayn a dirty look before quickly grabbing my arm and pulling me into the room.

I glanced over my shoulder just as the door slammed shut behind us. The last thing I saw was Zayn biting the inside of his cheek, nodding silently, as if processing everything in his own way.

©𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞