Always Into You

Tanya's POV Dreaming has always been a part of me. Despite growing up in a small town, i frequently believed that i was destined for something greater. I was unquestionably beautiful, and although i never exactly matched the stereotype of a "model" in my community, i had always been quietly drawn to the world of glamour and fashion because of my sister julia she always have the blaze magazine whenever she goes to manila, unfortunately she died because of a traffic collision but i promised to her that i will pursue my dreams. In order to pursue my dreams of being a model, i bravely decided to leave my comfort zone and travel to Manila, the bustling center of Southeast Asia's fashion scene, when i was 22. I am a number 1 fan of Ambessa Hightower the most elegant, sophisticated and can never be duplicated fashion icon, i remember my sister always tells a story that this woman is well respected. I'm currently en route to my friend Joanna, who has agreed to let me stay at her flat for four weeks while I apply for a position as a personal assistant at Blaze Magazine. Indeed! Ambessa serves as the chief editor of Blaze Magazine. Never in my life had I felt extremely nervous. I held onto my resume like a life raft in the middle of a hurricane as I stood outside the , modern building of Blaze Magazine. Ambessa, the famous fashion icon with a reputation so fearsome that even the most experienced designers shuddered in their boots, Ambessa had a reputation for being brutally honest, having perfect elegance, and exuding a "Don't mess with me" vibe. I inhaled deeply before suddenly finding the confidence to enter the building. The receptionist, who appeared to have been lifted from a Vogue editorial, pointed to the elevator with hardly a glance up from her phone. "Ambessa’s office is on the 38th floor. You’ll know you’re there when you hear the sound of glass breaking. It’s a reality." I grinned weakly but swallowed hard. "Great. Thanks." The elevator ride was painfully lengthy. The possibilities rushed through my thoughts. What if I made a mistake? What if I fell into a potted plant after tripping? What if I called Ambessa "Ambrosia" by mistake? I emerged into a vast, elegantly furnished hallway as the elevator doors eventually opened. I could practically hear jazz playing in the background, and the air had a subtle scent of jasmine and expensive cologne. It seemed like an art gallery, but with a tenfold increase in the number of dangerous fashion moguls. I rapped on Ambessa's office door. It reverberated like an ominous rhythm. A smooth, icy voice said, "Enter," from the other end. Ambessa was there when I opened the door. Even though they were indoors, Ambessa Hightower was a towering sight in a custom-made black leather jacket and Giorgio Armani sunglasses. She resembled a cross between beauty and elegance. I cautiously entered, but Ambessa didn't even look up from her desk. With an icy tone, Ambessa questioned, "Are you the new assistant?" I stumbled, "Uh, yes! Yes, I am," my voice is cracking a little. "I’m Tanya, and I" Ambessa interrupted me before I could continue my sentence by raising one hand. "Are you capable of handling... chaos?" I blinked. "I.... I like chaos! I thrive in it!" After giving her a long look, Ambessa leaned back in her chair. "What’s your opinion on fashion disasters? Like, really bad ones?" Even though my heart was racing, I couldn't help but smile. Ambessa moved forward slowly, tapping her desk repeatedly. "Well, I think every fashion disaster has its moment. Like, remember when people wore those oversized cargo pants? Absolute chaos, but... it made a statement, you know?" i said. "And... what would you do if I asked you to go buy me a steamed salmon in fresh herbs with freshly picked mangoes and a jasmine with chamomile tea at midnight in the middle of a thunderstorm?" I sighed. This was the crucial moment. "Without a doubt, I would do it. To add even more drama, I would serve it with kale chips on the side. The eyes of Ambessa narrowed up. "You... get it." I felt like I was about to faint from the anxiety during the lengthy pause. Then, to my surprise, Ambessa started giggling. It was not a little laugh. It reverberated off the walls in a loud, cackling laugh. Ambessa said, "I think you're perfect," as my face brightened. "You’re hired." I blinked twice. "Wait, really?" "Yes," answered Ambessa, with a flick of her fingers. "But be warned. If you fail me, I’ll make you wear socks with sandals to every fashion show for the rest of your life." Even though my eyes grew wide, I gave a stern nod. "Socks with sandals? That’s... dark." Ambessa grinned. "Exactly. Welcome to the team, Tanya." with a evilish smirk. I remained there for a while, still dazed, trying to take in what had just happened. "Uh... Thank you. I won’t disappoint you. I promise I can handle socks with sandals." And I couldn't help but smile as I headed out of the office. This was going to be my life's most bizarre and probably most fashionable adventure. The first 9 months were a blur of unrelenting work, organizing Ambessa's stuffed calendar which included everything from secret meetings with rival designers to photo shoots, handling her demanding email inbox a virtual battleground of high stakes negotiations and running errands that included everything from finding obscure vintage accessories to handling irascible models. As scary as i had anticipated, Ambessa was a vision in well made power suits. Her words were exact and frequently incisive, and her eyes were keen. I was always on edge, negotiating the dangerous currents of Ambessa's erratic emotions, feeling like a pawn in a high stakes game. However, underneath the cold facade, I felt vulnerable, a glimmer of loneliness. I discovered a hidden folder on Ambessa's computer while working late one evening to plan her itinerary for Manila Fashion Week. Inside, i found sketches of breathtakingly beautiful designs that were far more unique and bold than anything published in Blaze Magazine. They were unlike anything Ambessa had ever shown in public; they were raw, emotional, and distinctly my style. They were works that revealed a hidden passion, a creative soul bound by the expectations of her public persona. As if it were static electricity, the tension in the air cracked. I had given in to temptation because I was determined to discover Ambessa's secret creative talent and was driven by late night coffee. I had touched the drawings, using my careful fingertip to trace the delicate lines of Ambessa's patterns. The infraction was short lived and motivated by pure curiosity. It was captured on camera, though. It was Ambessa's rage that was noticable the following morning. Her enormous monitor displayed the CCTV footage, which was a silent accusation. My face was stuck in a moment of silent reflection, my fingers lingering over the prohibited designs as the computer screen's gentle illumination illuminated her face. Ambessa growled, "You touched them," in a low, menacing voice. Unspoken threats weighed heavily on the words that hung in the air. The workplace was eerily quiet, with only the steady ticking of the clock as the only sound, each tick adding to the mounting anxiety. I felt my heart thumping in my chest. I was aware that I had committed an error. I started to apologize and explain, but nothing came out of her mouth. I was stifled by fear, trembling and unable to speak. Ambessa's glance was cold and her demeanor is impenetrable. For a long time, Ambessa just stared at me, the silence extending into eternity. Then, unexpectedly, she spoke, her tone milder but no less terrifying. "You're curious, aren't you?" she asked, her gaze narrowing. "Curious about the woman behind the mask. The woman who hides her true self beneath layers of ambition and ruthlessness." Ambessa hesitated, her expression softening slightly. "I'll give you another chance, Tanya," she continued, her tone still tinged with warning. "But next time, Don't touch." The unstated message hung in the air, respect the boundaries, "yet your curiosity may be an asset not a liability. Please stop touching what is not yours and act like a professional not likely college student, you are very immature and desperate." Ambessa said. Get out of my face right now.