Chapter 12
2088 Words
ARIA
The moment Luca stepped out of my apartment, I remained standing at the door as if my feet had forgotten how to move. My heart pounded with such intensity that I needed to draw a deep breath just to steady myself. I leaned back against the wood and allowed the faintest smile to break across my face, even though I tried to restrain it. I whispered under my breath, “What is wrong with you, Aria?” The words escaped with a shaky laugh.
My mind replayed how I had asked him if he was about to knock, and how he had said “no,” then immediately corrected himself with a confused “yes,” which had made absolutely no sense considering he was standing right outside my door. The memory made me laugh a little harder, and I pressed a hand to my forehead.
Maeve’s words surfaced gently in my thoughts, her voice telling me that Luca was not the kind of person people believed he was, that there was far more to him than the rebellious stories everyone had repeated. For a moment, I allowed myself to consider that maybe she had been right all along, that perhaps he had been misunderstood too many times.
But when my gaze drifted toward the wall and fell upon Adrian’s framed photograph, my smile dissolved instantly. His warm eyes and familiar smile struck something deep inside me, and the fleeting joy that had lit my chest flickered out. I pushed away from the door and walked toward the kitchen with a heaviness that settled back over me.
I cleaned the dishes from our meal slowly, allowing the running water and repetitive movement to calm my emotions. I reminded myself that tonight was only dinner and nothing more. I reminded myself that Adrian had loved me. I reminded myself that I had made a decision to build a new life and honor him by not drowning in grief. Yet even as I tried to reason through every feeling, the bond inside me hummed stubbornly beneath my ribs, refusing to stay quiet.
—--
Morning came with a dull ache behind my eyes, but I refused to let it dictate my day. I got dressed quickly and left the house earlier than usual because I wanted to stop by a nearby coffee shop before heading to the studio. It smelled of roasted beans and warm pastries the moment I stepped inside, and the soft chatter created a comforting hum around me.
I joined the short line and allowed myself to breathe as I scanned the room. My eyes caught the large television hanging above the counter, and when the image shifted, my entire body stiffened. There he was, Luca, laughing beside the popstar Karen. The headline boldly declared:
“Late-Night Dinner Between Athlete Luca Hale and Pop Princess Karen Sparks Rumors.”
I felt a prick deep inside my chest, small but sharp enough to make me inhale slowly. The customers around me reacted immediately.
One woman placed a hand over her mouth and sighed dramatically. “Karen is the luckiest woman alive. I swear, if I could even sit across from Luca Morgan for one second, I would faint.”
Another woman nodded eagerly. “They look so perfect together. Look at them. Please tell me that chemistry isn’t real.”
A man behind the counter laughed while wiping a machine. “He hasn’t denied dating her, so maybe it is real.”
Their excitement only intensified the strange, unwelcome ache inside me. I forced my eyes away from the television, but they landed on a small mirror attached to the glass door. My reflection stared back at me, tired eyes, a little mascara smudge I had missed, and hair still slightly messy from rushing. It made me wonder briefly whether I stood anywhere near the level of polished beauty Karen possessed so effortlessly.
The thought irritated me instantly. I shook my head and muttered, “What exactly has come over me?”
The barista called, “Next, please.”
I stepped forward and attempted to compose myself. “Good morning,” I said softly. “Please, can I have an iced coffee with a small splash of cream?”
She smiled warmly. “Of course. Anything else?”
“No, thank you. Just that.”
As she prepared the drink, I kept my eyes averted from the television, but my mind betrayed me by replaying the images anyway—Karen leaning toward him, her hand wrapped around his arm, reporters flashing their cameras as though it were the most magical night.
My drink slid across the counter. I paid quickly and turned toward the exit, still stealing one last glance at the screen. My body was so distracted that I bumped into someone standing right by the door.
“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry,” I said immediately.
The man smiled with a gentle warmth that reminded me of sunshine. “It’s alright. Really.”
He kept smiling, and his gaze lingered on me in a way that made me slightly self-conscious. I frowned lightly. “Is there something on my face?” I asked, lifting a hand toward my cheek. “You’re staring.”
He chuckled softly. “No, you’re fine. I just… never mind. Have a good day.”
I blinked in confusion but managed a polite nod. “Oh. Alright. Thank you. You too.”
I stepped outside and headed toward the studio, still wondering why that man had looked at me that way when I barely felt put together.
—--
When I arrived at the studio, I greeted the receptionist and hurried inside. Rose Miller was already teaching a small group of mentees when she noticed me. She gestured for me to approach, and her voice carried the same crisp authority as before.
“Aria,” she said. “Since you are joining the program properly today, I will introduce you to someone you will shadow. You must learn both technique and discipline.”
“Yes, ma. I am ready.”
Her sharp eyes appraised me briefly. “Good. Follow me.”
We walked through the long hallway until we reached a workstation where Stephanie stood, her expression stern enough to make my stomach tighten. Even the way she folded her arms looked like a challenge.
“Stephanie,” Rose said, “this is Aria. She will shadow you for the next several days. Teach her everything she needs to know about efficiency and precision. I expect a full report.”
Stephanie’s lips lifted in something that was definitely not a smile. “Of course, Miss Rose.”
Rose Miller nodded once and walked away.
I turned toward Stephanie and offered a polite smile. “Good morning.”
Her expression remained as cold as stone. “If you think I have time to babysit someone who cannot even stand correctly behind a station yet, then you are mistaken. Come here. We are starting now.”
I swallowed my pride and followed her. “Yes, alright.”
She handed me a tray of brushes and palettes. “Hold this properly,” she said sharply. “You are shaking. Why are you shaking? We do not shake around clients.”
“I… I am not shaking anymore,” I said quickly, adjusting my grip.
“You are. And if you drop one single item, you will clean every brush in this room. I will not repeat myself.”
I nodded and kept walking behind her, determined not to drop anything. She demonstrated a base application technique on a model, and I watched with focus, but the knot in my stomach refused to loosen.
“Do you understand what I just did?” she asked with a clipped tone.
“Yes, I do.”
“Then explain it.”
I opened my mouth. “You started with a hydrating primer because her skin type is…”
“No,” she said, cutting me off with a scoff. “You are reciting words you read in a book. I asked you what I did, not what a textbook said I did. Look properly and think for yourself.”
I took a breath and tried again. “You worked from the center of the face outward because her skin has uneven textures around the edges, so blending outward created a more even finish.”
She stared at me for a moment as if evaluating whether to be impressed or irritated. “Better,” she finally said. “But do not get comfortable. You have a long way to go.”
Throughout the day, she continued with sharp commands.
“Aria, stop standing like a tree.”
“Aria, your posture is incorrect.”
“Aria, bring that powder now, not later.”
“Aria, do you even know how to multitask?”
Every word felt like a small sting. My distraction from the café lingered in my thoughts, and each correction from Stephanie combined into a weight that pressed heavily on my chest.
At one point, as she criticized the way I arranged the brushes, I felt my mind drift involuntarily to two nights ago, to the reporters outside the restaurant, their flashing cameras, and the moment I had unknowingly walked past the glass where Luca sat with Karen. I had wondered whether those same reporters were the ones who later captured the headline on the morning news.
Without thinking, I looked at Stephanie and asked, “Were those reporters the same ones outside the restaurant two nights ago?”
Stephanie turned toward me with a sharp frown. “What are you talking about?”
Her tone was so sudden that it startled me back into reality. I shook my head quickly. “I… sorry. Forget I said anything. It slipped.”
She stared at me as though trying to determine whether I was losing my mind. “Aria, if you intend to keep this mentorship, you will need to stay present and focused. This is not the place for daydreaming or wandering thoughts. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” I said quietly. “I understand.”
“Good,” she snapped. “Now hand me the setting spray. Quickly, please.”
I moved to fetch it, determined not to frustrate her further, even though the entire day felt like a careful tightrope walk between my emotions and her relentless scrutiny.
Yet beneath the exhaustion, beneath the embarrassment and the lingering jealousy, there was still a small spark of determination refusing to die. I reminded myself that I had chosen this path, and no matter how difficult it became, I would not step back now.
And just as that thought settled firmly inside me, Stephanie paused, turned around slowly, and looked at me with narrowed eyes as if she sensed something shifting.
She opened her mouth and said, in a tone that made every hair on my arms lift, “Aria… what exactly is going on with you today?”
Her question hung painfully in the air, sharp, intrusive, and dangerously close to uncovering emotions I was not ready to explain.
After the exhausting chaos with Stephanie, I left the studio feeling drained in every possible way. The moment I boarded the bus, I sank into the seat beside the window and leaned my forehead against the cool glass. The city blurred past me, but my thoughts refused to settle. Everything about the day replayed in my mind, the jealousy from the café, the harshness from Stephanie, the confusion I felt every time the bond tugged at me. I tried to steady my breathing, but the bond kept unraveling inside me, warm and insistent, refusing to let me forget him.
By the time the bus reached my stop, the sky had already darkened, and all I wanted was the quiet of my apartment. I pushed through the gate with a sigh, but the moment I lifted my head, I froze.
Luca was standing outside.
He looked calm, almost casual, with his hands in his pockets and his gaze resting on nothing in particular. My heart skipped so sharply that I pressed a hand to my chest as if that could steady it. The streetlight above him softened the edges of his face, and something inside me tightened at the sight.
His head turned slightly at the sound of the gate closing.
My breath caught, and I swallowed hard before taking another step forward.
- Writer
