You’re Glowing, Why?
1094 Words
You’re Glowing, Why?
POV: Eve (third-person limited)
The studio buzzed with energy — foundation brushes flicking over cheekbones, the hum of a curling wand, zippers and perfume clouds. Lena spun in front of the vanity wearing the custom piece Eve had promised: a slinky velvet-toned set with newly added shimmering crystals that clung to her like stardust. She looked like a starlet from another world — confident, golden, untouchable.
“You’re a goddamn genius,” Lena beamed, examining her look. “I’ve been begging for this one since last summer. And you just casually pull it from the archives like—”
“Like you’re my best friend or something,” Eve said, smirking softly, adjusting her earring.
Lena’s phone buzzed. “Lucien says he’s parking.”
Eve’s stomach dipped.
And then—
“Speak of the devil,” Lena muttered, as the heavy velvet curtain in the back rustled. Lucien stepped out, rolling his shirt sleeves up, collar open just enough to be criminal. His eyes swept the room, pausing only for a breath too long on Eve.
Lena clocked it.
She tilted her head slightly, watching as Lucien crossed toward the mirror like he didn’t feel the tension thicken the air.
“You sure you’re not using this place as your personal bachelor pad, Luc?” Lena teased, eyes narrowing.
Lucien didn’t flinch. “Relax, Lena. I was here for wardrobe approval, remember?”
“For your suit?” Lena scoffed. “Since when do you care what you wear to a fashion showcase?”
He smirked. “Since I found out Eve was dressing the room.”
Lena didn’t laugh. Her gaze flicked between them now, sharper. More calculated.
⸻
Scene: Dual Confessions
Later, as the girls finish final touches, Lena quietly corners Lucien near the loading racks.
“You’re being weird,” she says. “And don’t tell me I’m imagining it. I know you.”
Lucien leans back against the wall, arms crossed. “You always think something’s going on.”
“Because something is going on. I’m not stupid.”
Lucien’s jaw tightens. But before he can lie, Lena adds, quieter now:
“I know Eve had a crush on you growing up. And I ignored it because… she was hurting, and I trusted you.”
Her voice breaks slightly, sharp edges around old wounds.
“But now you’re walking out of her studio curtain like it’s your dressing room. And she’s… glowing. Don’t play me.”
Lucien doesn’t answer. He just walks past her, slowly. “You ever think maybe you just don’t want to know the answer?”
⸻
Scene: Eve & Lucien Alone — Before the Event
Back inside, Eve adjusts her red dress in the mirror. The final version. Sculpted, deadly, a little dangerous — like fire poured into fabric.
Lucien approaches behind her, his reflection trailing her bare back like a sin.
“You wore it,” he murmurs.
“Try not to lose your mind tonight,” she says, voice flat but sultry.
Lucien closes the space, one hand brushing her hip. “Not promising anything.”
Their eyes lock in the mirror.
He lowers his mouth to her neck, whispering: “You should’ve let me finish what I started last night.”
Eve exhales slowly, her tone cutting and amused. “You’re already finished in your head.”
Lucien laughs low — dark and full of warning.
“Don’t tempt me, princess.”
EVE’s POV
Scene: events sometimes go ghostly
The lights in the gallery were low and seductive, casting everything in gold and champagne. Velvet couches, curated playlists, endless flutes of sparkling wine. It smelled like money, power—and her: me.
My showcase.
My first real step into the world. A night built from every sleepless hour in the studio, every sketch, every needle prick. Every bruise I’d hidden under silk. And now my name whispered across lips lined in gloss and envy.
I wore red.
A Lucien-engineered sin of a dress: sleeveless, backless, high-slit—cut to seduce and conquer. Fabric that molded to my body like it had been sewn by temptation itself. I knew I looked like a secret no one could touch.
And he—Lucien—looked at me like he wanted to touch anyway.
His voice was low against my ear earlier. “That dress is illegal, Laurent.”
I smiled. “That’s the point.”
Lena sparkled beside me in the velvet piece she’d begged me for. She was glowing, loud, and laughing—taking pictures with everyone, drinking something bubbly and dangerous. But even in her orbit, I felt the tug behind my navel. Like the air had shifted.
I felt him before I saw him.
At the far end of the room, near the installations—where one of my favorite pieces hung above a sheer display—he stood like he belonged.
But he didn’t.
Kane.
Time staggered.
The same slick smile. The tailored coat. That tattoo I used to trace with my finger when we were both different people. He hadn’t aged a day. He hadn’t earned the right to.
He wasn’t supposed to be here.
Not in this city.
Not in this world I made after him.
Lucien noticed it instantly. He was never far from me tonight—hovering at the edge of the frame, eyes always on me like he knew something might shatter.
And this? This was the moment.
His gaze cut to mine. “What is it?”
I didn’t answer.
Lena’s attention darted to my face. “Whoa, you look like you saw a ghost.”
I almost laughed.
“Because I did.”
Lucien’s body tensed, his hand curling into a fist so tight I could hear the stretch of skin over his knuckles. “Who is he?”
I didn’t speak his name aloud. Not yet. Not here.
“Someone I thought I buried,” I whispered.
Lucien’s eyes darkened.
Lena’s brow furrowed, confused, suspicious. “Wait. What’s happening? Eve?”
I blinked. I had to keep it together. My art was on these walls. My name was on the invitation. This wasn’t Kane’s moment. This was mine.
But still… it was like he came to reclaim something. A ghost in tailored smoke, ready to whisper old sins back into the room.
“I need some air,” I murmured, stepping toward the back hallway, feeling Lucien move with me like gravity itself.
And I knew exactly what he’d say when we were alone:
Who the f**k is he, Eve?
- Writer
