The Next Moment Begins
Country: Aurivelle
City: Auremont
Alvara
Saturday morning.
The sun had just started spilling golden light across the campus, and I was still half-lost in yesterday’s victory.
I moved slowly, stretching, rolling out my yoga mat, still not believing it had actually happened.
Me.
Designer of the Month.
I was mid-way through picking my cream workout top when a sharp knock sounded at my door.
I frowned, walking over and opening it.
“Good morning, superstar,” Isabella said, practically bouncing in, her grin wide enough to break the world.
Mila stood behind her, smiling quietly but clearly amused.
“I see someone woke up feeling like a queen,” Isabella continued.
I rolled my eyes, trying to hide my grin.
“Please,” I said, pretending to yawn, “I don’t need fanfare before coffee.”
“Oh, come on,” Isabella said, nudging me lightly, “I haven’t even started teasing you yet.”
Mila chuckled quietly, shaking her head like she knew trouble was coming.
I sighed dramatically, letting myself smile.
“Fine. Hit me with it.”
“You woke up this morning thinking about your little crown, didn’t you?” Isabella teased, poking my shoulder. “Designer of the Month…everyone is probably still talking about it!”
I crossed my arms, trying to look unimpressed, though a little warmth crept into my cheeks.
Mila leaned closer. “Don’t let her get to you too much,” she said softly, though I could tell she was smiling under her calm.
“Oh, I won’t,” I replied, fixing my hair in the mirror. “But go on…what else do you have to say?”
Isabella smirked. “Nothing…yet. But I’ll be making sure everyone remembers your ‘fabulous moment’ for the rest of the weekend.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “You two are ridiculous.”
But I didn’t mind.
Not at all.
Because even with all the teasing, all the noise, all the chaos of the campus…yesterday was real.
And this morning, I could still feel it.
The world had shifted just a little…toward me.
The sun had barely risen when I unrolled my yoga mat.
I moved slowly, stretching, feeling every pull and release.
Isabella and Mila on my left and right the crisp morning air brushing past us as we went through the poses.
“You’re way too stiff, Alvara,” Isabella teased, nudging me as I wobbled on one leg.
“I’m… perfectly balanced,” I said, trying not to laugh.
Mila smiled quietly, steady as always, clearly amused at our antics.
By the time we finished, I felt lighter…like the day was just beginning to open up.
Breakfast followed.
We found our usual table by the glass wall, the sunlight spilling across our plates.
“Not going back to bed after yesterday would’ve been a waste,” Isabella added, grinning at me. “Designer of the Month, remember?”
I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t hide the little smile tugging at my lips.
After breakfast, we handled laundry and freshened up quickly before regrouping in my room.
“Time to make you shine,” Isabella said, practically bouncing.
Mila held the layers carefully while Isabella tugged and pinned, arranging the fabric perfectly.
“I really don’t need makeup,” I protested, looking at my reflection.
“You need it,” Isabella said firmly, reaching for her brushes. “Just a little. Subtle. Trust me.”
Mila chimed in softly, “It’ll highlight the dress too.”
I sighed, letting them take over.
Hair pulled into a sleek updo, a few soft curls framing my face.
Makeup light but flawless.
Eyes that seemed to sparkle under the morning light.
The gown fitted perfectly…strapless bodice, embroidered floral vines climbing delicately, layered organza flowing gracefully to the floor, the deep plum lining peeking subtly as I moved.
“Perfect,” Isabella said, stepping back, arms crossed, satisfied with her work.
Mila nodded quietly. “You look… ready.”
I caught my reflection in the mirror.
It was strange…seeing myself like this, not just in the gown, but feeling like it was me.
Isabella poked me playfully. “Queen of the month. Don’t forget it.”
I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help the small, proud smile that crept onto my face.
We were ready.
We stepped into the studio, and the media team was already buzzing around…cameras, lights, tripods, microphones.
“Wow…” Isabella whispered, her eyes wide. “This is… huge.”
Mila gave me a calm smile.
“Just breathe. You’ve got this.”
I nodded, trying to steady my racing heart.
“Hair first,” Isabella said immediately, tugging gently at my updo. “We need perfect lines. Trust me.”
“I told you, it’s fine,” I said, though she ignored me.
“Makeup?” she asked, holding up a small brush.
“Subtle, Alvara,” Mila added quietly. “Just enhance, don’t cover.”
“Subtle,” Isabella repeated, and then proceeded anyway.
Dab, blend, highlight…just enough to catch the studio lights.
Finally, everything was in place…the gown flowing perfectly, my hair tidy, the makeup catching just enough shine…I stepped in front of the first camera.
The photographer gave directions, “Slight turn to the left. Let the layers move.
Beautiful. Hold it there.”
Click. Click. Click.
Then the lead journalist stepped forward.
“Alvara, congratulations on being Designer of the Month. Can you tell us… what inspired this gown?”
I straightened, my hands lightly adjusting the organza layers.
“I wanted something that speaks without words,” I said softly. “Bold, but graceful. Something that moves, that breathes… that says you don’t have to shout to be heard. This dress… It's about presence. About being unforgettable without asking permission.”
The journalist nodded eagerly. “And the deep plum lining…what’s the story behind that?”
I smiled faintly. “Contrast. Life isn’t all one color. It’s the subtle layers that make it beautiful. The top is light and free, the lining holds strength, depth, and mystery. The dress tells a story… of someone who is both delicate and unshakable.”
Another journalist chimed in, “What do you hope people feel when they see this?”
I looked toward the camera, my voice steady. “Confidence. Freedom. That they can be themselves and still shine. That strength can be gentle, and beauty can be bold.”
I looked at Isabella and Mila and saw them smiling so proudly.
I smiled and I focused on the next question.
“What does this gown say about you, Alvara?”
I looked down at the layers, then back up at the lens. “It says I’ve arrived. That I’m ready. That, my work… my vision… is here to be seen. And it won’t be ignored.”
The journalists scribbled notes furiously, snapped a few more pictures, and the team guided me through a few final poses.
By the time we wrapped up, the dress had been captured from every angle, the story was told, and I could feel it…this was my moment.
We stepped into my room and I let out a long breath.
“Okay,” Isabella said, practically bouncing on her toes. “We need to get you ready for tomorrow. Lunch with Mrs Hawthorne doesn’t wait for lazy girls.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You realize I’ve already had a full day, right?”
“Oh, trust me,” she said, opening my wardrobe like a kid in a candy store, “there is nothing lazy about today. We’re going to make sure every single detail screams Alvara.”
Mila was already crouched by the mirror, scrolling on her tablet, “Hair styles. Makeup. The perfect balance. We can’t leave anything to chance.”
I sighed, flopping onto my bed. “I’m not sure I need all this.”
“Oh, sweetie, yes you do,” Isabella said, rifling through gowns, holding some up against me, spinning around. “Ivory? Gold? Something that says… power, but graceful. We need the world to notice you.”
Mila looked up, finger tapping the tablet.
“And the hairstyle has to flow naturally, but elegant. Nothing messy, nothing too stiff. Maybe a soft updo with some subtle curls… hmm.”
“Exactly,” Isabella said, grabbing a pair of heels from the corner. “And the shoes! The right height, the right color. Not too flashy, not too simple. This isn’t just any lunch. This is Mrs Hawthorne.”
I laughed quietly, watching them go through every option like it was a mission.
“You two really are insane.”
“Perfection is not insane,” Isabella corrected, now holding three different gowns against me. “It’s mandatory. And I have opinions about each one. So, let’s see…”
Mila leaned over, pointing to the ivory gown that shimmered softly in the sunlight.
“That one. It catches the light beautifully. And the layers… they echo your monthly challenge gown. Symbolic. Confident. You want your lunch to reflect you.”
I looked down at it, then back at her, and nodded slowly. “Fine. Let’s do it.”
Isabella clapped her hands. “Yes! That’s what I’m talking about. Now, let’s see about shoes… heels that are elegant, but not punishing.”
I groaned at the thought of strappy heights, but she was already pulling out options. “I swear, these girls will kill me before tomorrow even starts,” I muttered, laughing.
Mila just smiled. “You’ll survive. You’ll shine.”
I realized… with them handling every little detail, tomorrow wasn’t going to be just lunch.
It was going to be another moment that made people remember exactly who I was.
I realized… with them handling every little detail, tomorrow wasn’t going to be just lunch.