stolen chances
1266 Words
Lily tightened the apron around her waist as she wiped down the café counter. The hum of the espresso machine and the low chatter of customers filled the small space, grounding her in reality the one that didn’t involve hazy memories of a night she couldn’t fully recall.
She had been distracted lately, her thoughts slipping back to the mystery man in the hotel suite. His touch, his voice it was all a blur. And yet, her body remembered.
Emma had tried prying the truth from her, but what could Lily say? That she woke up alone with nothing but a note? That she wasn’t even sure how she got there?
It wasn’t worth worrying about. She had bigger problems.
A few hours from now, she was supposed to attend a casting call for Celeste Couture, a Parisian brand expanding into New York. It was the kind of opportunity that could change her life a chance to prove herself to an elite designer who didn’t rely on industry politics.
But something about it didn’t sit right.
Camille had been gloating all morning in their family group chat about how she was guaranteed a spot. Lily had ignored the messages, but Emma had rolled her eyes.
"She always does this before something goes wrong for you," Emma had pointed out.
Lily wanted to believe it was paranoia, but deep down, she knew better.
Still, she refused to let Camille get into her head.
She finished her shift, grabbed her things, and rushed toward the casting venue.
Celeste Couture – Casting Hall
By the time Lily arrived, her stomach sank.
The room was nearly empty.
A few models lingered, some chatting while others changed into their casting outfits, but the registration desk was already closing down.
A pit formed in her stomach as she hurried to the table.
“I’m here for the casting,” she said, breathless.
The assistant barely glanced at her. “Sorry, the list is closed.”
Lily’s pulse pounded. “That’s impossible. The email said the session runs until four.”
“It was moved up. All models were informed.”
Lily froze. She hadn’t been informed.
Her fingers clenched around her bag strap. “I never got any message.”
The assistant gave a polite, indifferent shrug. “That’s unfortunate.”
Lily turned away, her heart hammering as she pieced it together. There was only one explanation.
Camille.
And Marco.
Her stepsister had been bragging all morning, and Marco had conveniently been the one handling their schedules.
She had been set up to fail.
Again.
Lily swallowed the lump in her throat. She wanted to scream, to demand answers but what good would it do?
Instead, she forced her head high and walked out.
She wouldn’t let them see her break.
But deep down, a quiet fury was building.
One day, they wouldn’t be able to sabotage her.
One day, she’d make sure they regretted ever underestimating her.
The late afternoon sun bathed Central Park in a golden hue, filtering through the fiery autumn leaves as Lily and Emma strolled along the winding sidewalk.
The air was crisp, carrying the distant sound of laughter from children playing and the occasional bark of a dog. It was one of those rare moments where Lily could pretend her life wasn’t a battlefield, where she didn’t have to fight against Marco’s sabotage or endure Camille’s constant schemes.
Emma walked beside her, hands tucked into the pockets of her oversized hoodie. “You’ve been brooding since that casting disaster,” she pointed out, giving Lily a side glance.
Lily sighed, kicking at a stray pebble on the path. “Can you blame me? It’s exhausting. No matter how hard I work, Camille and Marco always find a way to pull the rug out from under me.”
Emma hummed thoughtfully. “You know what you need?”
“A magic wand?”
Emma snorted. “No. A reminder that you’re that girl. That no amount of sabotage can take away what you are.”
Lily arched an eyebrow. “And how exactly do I do that?”
Emma gestured toward the empty stretch of sidewalk ahead. “You strut. Right here. Right now. Show this park why you belong on every runway in New York.”
Lily let out a short laugh. “Emma”
“Come on,” Emma insisted, stepping back with her phone already in hand. “Pretend this is your stage. If Marco won’t let you shine, we’ll make our own damn spotlight.”
Lily hesitated, glancing down at herself. She wasn’t in designer wear or six-inch heels. She was dressed simply a white crop top that hugged her figure, paired with fitted blue jeans that accentuated her curves in all the right places.
A pair of classic white Converse completed the look, giving her an effortless, girl-next-door charm. Her dark hair, long and silky, cascaded down her shoulders, catching the light in soft waves.
The wind picked up slightly, brushing against her skin.
Maybe Emma was right. Maybe she needed to remind herself why she loved this.
Straightening her spine, she lifted her chin and took her first step forward.
The transformation was instant. Gone was the frustrated, disheartened girl weighed down by rejection. In her place stood a model graceful, poised, unstoppable. Her strides were fluid, confident, her hips swaying just enough to command attention without trying too hard. The late afternoon sun cast a soft glow on her face, highlighting her high cheekbones and the determined glint in her dark eyes.
Her hair, thick and glossy, bounced with every step, moving in perfect sync with her body. The simple outfit so casual, so effortless only made her natural beauty stand out even more.
Emma grinned as she recorded, shaking her head in awe. “Marco is an idiot.”
Lily turned at the perfect angle, allowing the light to frame her profile just as it would on a real runway. “Done yet?” she asked, smirking.
Emma wiggled her phone. “Not only am I done, but I’m posting this.”
Lily’s eyes widened. “Emma”
“Too late.” Emma hit the upload button. “Hashtag RealModelEnergy.”
Lily groaned, covering her face. “You’re ridiculous.”
Emma grinned. “Just wait. The world is about to see what they’ve been missing.”
Lancaster Tower – Christian’s Office
Christian Lancaster sat in his high-rise office, the Manhattan skyline stretching endlessly beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. He leaned back in his chair, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone, his mind only half-focused.
Then something caught his attention.
A video.
At first glance, it was just a girl walking down a sidewalk. Nothing extravagant no couture, no high-end production. But then he really looked.
His grip on the phone tightened.
She moved like she belonged on the world’s biggest runways. Each step was a statement, each movement naturally elegant. The way her hips swayed, the effortless bounce of her thick, flowing hair it was the kind of presence models spent years trying to perfect. And yet, she carried it as if it was second nature.
Then he saw her face.
Lily Chen.
His jaw clenched slightly.
The woman from that night.
She still didn’t know who she had spent the night with. He had made sure of that. And yet, here she was once again in his orbit, unintentionally drawing his attention in a way few ever did.
His eyes flickered to the caption. RealModelEnergy.
A slow smirk played at his lips.
Perhaps fate wasn’t done with them just yet.
- Writer
