Episode One – The Interview
461 Words
The taxi slowed to a stop in front of a sleek, glass building that shimmered under the pale Parisian sun. “Étoile Modèles,” the silver letters announced, like a crown above the entrance. Eliana Mabel stared at them from the back seat, her heartbeat pounding against her ribs. This was it — the first step toward the dream she’d carried since she was fifteen.
She smoothed her black pencil skirt, slipped a hand over her k when they broke up. But as the elevator doors opened and she stepped onto the top floor, a voice — deep, smooth, unmistakable — shattered that hope.
“Eliana.”
She turned. And there he was. Bryan Laurent. Older now, broader in the shoulders, dressed in a tailored navy suit that fit him like it had been cut by angels. His eyes — the same stormy gray she’d once fallen into — locked on hers, unreadable.
For a moment, neither spoke. The years seemed to compress into the space between them, full of everything unsaid. Then, he smiled. But it wasn’t the boyish grin she remembered. This smile was sharper. Controlled.
“Well,” he said, walking toward her with measured steps. “Welcome to Étoile Modèles.”
Her breath caught, but she straightened her spine. “Thank you, Mr. Laurent.”
If he was surprised by her formality, he didn’t show it. Instead, he gestured toward his office — a wide, glass-walled space overlooking the rooftops of Paris. The Eiffel Tower stood proud in the distance, its steel frame catching the light.
The interview began, but it felt less like a conversation and more like a chess match. His questions were direct, sometimes edged with something that felt like challenge. She answered each one, refusing to let her voice shake, even as her pulse refused to calm.
And yet… there were moments. Brief, dangerous flickers of the past. The way his gaze lingered when she smiled. The almost imperceptible softening in his tone when she spoke about her designs.
When it was over, he closed her portfolio and leaned back. “You’ll start Monday. 8 a.m. Don’t be late.”
Her eyes widened. “I… got the job?”
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, you got it, Eliana. I wouldn’t miss the chance to have you here.”
She wasn’t sure if it was a promise or a warning.
As she left his office, her heart was a confused tangle of triumph and dread. Outside, the winter wind bit at her cheeks, but inside, the warmth of old memories and the chill of unspoken history battled for space.
She had come to Paris to chase a dream. She hadn’t planned on running straight into her past.
- Writer
