Rhia’s POV
I stood frozen just across the table, hands pressed to my sides, biting my lips as I watched my lecturer, the wine-haired man with a pierced eyebrow, seated opposite me, groan, eyes shutting tight as if he were suffering a severe headache. Well, he could be having one already from how tightly he gripped the fabric in his hand.
Oh Oh. This isn’t good!
My stomach knotted in anticipation of what was coming.
Then, as if confirming my dread, he shouted my name.
“Rhia!”
I flinched, wincing as if the sound had struck me physically.
“What the hell is that?” he barked, eyes blazing as he shoved the dress across the table. It hit my chest before crumpling to the floor like a fall from grace. “You call that a design? You ruined a simple, elegant idea that should have been perfect!”
