ARIA
“Let’s go,” the man said to the others.
One by one, I watched them march out with boxes balanced in their hands. Brown cartons with sealed lids. My products were inside them. My sweat, my sleepless nights, my faith, and hard work. Everything I had poured myself into since the first day Maison Auriélle became real.
I did not know what I was feeling. Shock? Anger? Fear? Maybe all of them tangled together so tightly that none stood out on its own.
They walked out, dropped the boxes into a van, and then returned again. And again. And again.
Each time they came back, they took more.
They emptied the shelves, the cabinets, the storage room, and the factory inventory list I knew by heart. They packed sealed products and opened ones alike—brushes, bottles, jars, and labels—everything.
