A Seat At Her Table
Country: Aurivelle
City: Auremont
Alvara
I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, letting the morning light stretch across the room.
My thoughts drifted to last night, when I called my mom.
Her voice, full of happiness, had almost made me cry.
She was so proud, and hearing her cheer for me… it made all the late nights, the doubts, the fear… worth it.
Today was Sunday.
Everyone else was bustling, getting ready for the usual Sunday excursion, laughing, joking, planning for the day.
And me? I was getting ready for something completely different.
Lunch with Mrs Hawthorne.
My heart skipped a beat every time I thought about it.
I swung my legs off the bed, about to head for the bathroom when there was a soft knock on the door.
I didn’t need anyone to tell me it was Isabella and Mila.
I paused for a second, surprised.
They were supposed to be getting ready for the excursion, not here.
I opened the door.
Isabella was standing there, already dressed to perfection, and Mila behind her, calm and perfectly put together as always.
“Morning, superstar,” Isabella said, smirking like she owned the day.
I frowned. “Wait… aren’t you supposed to be going for the excursion?”
She rolled her eyes, stepping in without waiting for an answer.
“We came to dress you up,” she said, her tone sharp but playful.
“Because we don’t want you to show up and embarrass us with your outfit.”
I blinked, caught between amusement and disbelief.
“Excuse me?” I said, trying not to laugh.
Mila just smiled quietly, folding her hands.
“You heard me,” Isabella said, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the wardrobe. “Now let’s make sure you look perfect. Today isn’t just any lunch…it’s a statement.”
I shook my head, letting a smile slip.
With these two handling the details… I had a feeling today was going to be unforgettable.
By the time I stepped out of the bathroom, everything was ready.
The dress.
A pastel peach tulle gown with a layered skirt that floated like clouds.
Nude pointed heels.
A rose gold clutch waiting neatly on the side table.
Pearl earrings catching the light softly.
I sat in front of the mirror and Mila styled my hair in a soft half-up, half-down style.
And the makeup… subtle, soft blush, pink lips…just enough to shine under the daylight.
I’ve never doubted how I look… but this? This was different.
Isabella and Mila were buzzing around, fussing over the last little details.
“You’re going to leave everyone speechless,” Isabella whispered, eyes sparkling.
“You are the moment everyone’s been waiting for,” Mila added softly.
Before I could answer, my phone buzzed.
It was Mrs Alexia.
“The driver Mrs Hawthorne sent is here,” she said.
My chest tightened.
I took a deep breath, and with the girls at my side, I stepped out of the room, locking the door behind us.
As we walked toward the parking lot, a crowd of students were waiting for the instructors to start the Sunday excursion.
The moment they saw me…
Whispers erupted immediately.
“Is that… Alvara?”
“Wow… she looks unreal.”
“Her hair… her dress…”
“She’s glowing!”
Boys nudged each other, eyes wide, while the girls exchanged jealous glances, all of them sneaking looks I could feel on my skin.
The three rival girls just stood there, silent, lips tight, eyes fixed on me.
And then… I saw it.
The car.
Sleek.
Immaculate.
A machine that didn’t just sit there… it owned the space around it.
A Rolls?Royce Phantom VIII…one of the most expensive cars in the country.
The sunlight slid across its flawless black body, catching on every polished edge, every perfect curve, like it was meant to be admired.
The chrome grille stood tall.
Unapologetic.
The Spirit of Ecstasy gleamed at the front, quiet… but impossible to ignore.
The windows were tinted, deep enough to hide everything inside.
The doors… smooth, seamless.
Even before it moved, you could feel it.
Power.
Money.
Presence.
It didn’t just arrive…
It announced itself without making a sound.
Isabella’s jaw dropped.
Mila smiled quietly, as if saying you’re ready for this.
The driver stepped forward and opened the door.
I inhaled deeply, careful not to tremble as I slid into the plush leather seat.
Isabella started crying behind me, unable to contain herself.
I tried so hard not to let my own tears fall.
The door closed with a soft click.
The engine purred to life, and we drove off, leaving the whispers and stares behind.
This…
This was my moment.
Just me.
The car’s leather seats smelled new, the soft hum of the engine vibrating beneath me.
Sunlight glinted off the polished exterior, and I caught my reflection in the window…me, perfectly dressed, perfectly poised.
I felt my heart skip, a thrill that made my stomach twist and turn at the same time.
All those late nights, it had led to this.
And soon… just me and Mrs Hawthorne.
No one else. No distractions. Just the conversation, the elegance, the opportunity.
I let myself lean back in the seat, letting the reality sink in.
The car slowed and finally stopped in front of one of the Hawthorne Group’s signature restaurants.
Even from the outside, it screamed elegance…gleaming glass panels, modern architecture, soft golden lights that made the place glow like it was alive.
The driver opened the door, and I stepped out, trying to keep my composure.
Every step I took felt like it echoed through the entire city.
He led me through the main entrance, past the murmurs of diners who barely glanced at me, though I could feel the weight of attention pressing lightly on my shoulders.
“VVIP room, Miss Alvara,” the driver said, opening the door for me.
The room was breathtaking.
Soft ivory walls, crystal chandeliers, velvet chairs, polished dark wood tables. Every detail whispered wealth and taste, but in a subtle, understated way…power without shouting.
I took a deep breath, letting the quiet elegance wrap around me.
No one else was here.
This was me, sitting alone in a room made for the extraordinary, ready to be seen, ready to be heard, ready to step even further into the world I’d worked so hard to claim.
I smoothed my pastel peach tulle gown over my knees, adjusted the rose gold clutch in my hands, and allowed myself to finally exhale.
The door opened, and I knew…Mrs Hawthorne had arrived.
she stepped in.
Tall, poised, with that effortless elegance that made everything around her feel calm and measured.
But her smile… her smile was warm, welcoming, not the kind of distant, untouchable wealth you always hear about.
“Alvara,” she said softly, her voice like smooth velvet, “it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
I stood, curtsying slightly, though my nerves were more from excitement than formality.
“The pleasure is mine, Mrs Hawthorne,” I said, my voice steady despite the flutter in my chest.
She smiled again and gestured to the chair across from her. “Please, sit. Today, it’s just us. No cameras, no distractions. I wanted to speak to you personally.”
I sank into the velvet chair, taking in the room again.
“I’ve heard so much about your work,” she said, leaning forward slightly, her gaze warm… but deeply observant.
“From the moment you submitted your entrance design, you stood out. Mr. Cassian gave you a ninety-nine percent.”
A soft pause.
“Something I have never seen him give anyone before.”
My breath caught.
“Ninety-nine…?” I repeated, the words barely leaving my lips.
I hadn’t known.
Not even a hint.
For a second, I just stared at her… caught between shock and something else…something warmer, deeper.
She smiled faintly, like she’d expected my reaction.
“And then your dress for the monthly challenge…” she continued, her voice softer now, thoughtful.
“It wasn’t just beautiful. It spoke. It said something about you… about your vision.”
Her eyes met mine again.
“I wanted to meet the person behind it.”
I swallowed, still trying to steady myself, the weight of her words settling slowly.
“Thank you, Mrs. Hawthorne,” I said quietly.
“That… means more than you know.”
She smiled, sipping her water. “I hope you know, moments like this don’t come to just anyone. But they do come to those who are ready, who work, and who stay true to their vision. I see that in you, Alvara.”
I felt my chest tighten with pride and disbelief.
“I… I’ve worked hard,” I admitted softly. “I wanted to show that my designs could speak, even when I didn’t. That my work could… be seen.”
Mrs Hawthorne’s smile deepened, genuine and approving.
“And it has been. You’ve arrived at a point where your work speaks before you even enter the room.
That’s rare, Alvara. Cherish it, but don’t let it make you complacent.
Keep creating, keep pushing. You have talent.
.but talent without vision isn’t enough. You have both.”
I nodded, feeling the weight of her words sink in. She wasn’t just praising me..she was challenging me.
“Now,” she said, lightly tapping the table, “let’s enjoy lunch. I want to hear about your inspirations, your dreams, your process. Consider this… a beginning, not just a meal.”
This was a doorway.
And I was ready to walk through.
Because something told me…
This wasn’t just lunch.
This was an invitation.
And whatever came after this…
Would change everything.