The Chosen Ten
Country: Aurivelle
City: Auremont
Alvara
A month passed.
Not quietly.
Not easily.
At first, I waited.
Not in a way anyone could see..but in the small, silent ways that lived inside me.
The way my eyes lingered a second too long on unfamiliar faces.
The way my chest tightened whenever footsteps echoed too close behind me.
The way sleep came lightly, fragile, as if I was always prepared to wake and run.
I told myself I wasn’t waiting for him.
I told myself I didn’t care.
But a part of me…
A stubborn, restless part…
Was still waiting for the door to burst open.
Waiting for everything I had tried to leave behind to come crashing back into my life.
Waiting for Adrian.
But he never came.
Days turned into weeks.
Weeks turned into a month.
And slowly… painfully… something began to settle inside me.
A realization.
He wasn’t coming.
At first, it felt strange.
Unsettling.
Like I had been bracing for impact for so long that I didn’t know what to do when it never came.
Then… something shifted.
A strange kind of calm took its place.
Not peace.
No…not peace.
Something sharper.
Something colder.
Something steadier.
Caution.
I still looked over my shoulder sometimes.
Still noted exits the moment I stepped into a room.
Still kept parts of myself locked away where no one could reach them.
But I was no longer living like I was about to be dragged back into the past at any moment.
For the first time in a month…
I could breathe.
“Alvara!”
Isabella’s voice snapped through my thoughts like a whip.
I blinked, pulling myself back to the present.
She was already halfway out the door, impatience written all over her face, while Mila stood quietly beside her, as composed as ever.
“If you don’t move right now, we’re going to be late,” Isabella said dramatically, one hand on her hip.
“We’re not going to be late,” I replied, reaching for my bag.
“We are if you keep standing there like a tragic heroine in a novel,” she shot back.
I gave her a look.
Mila smiled softly.
“We should go,” she said gently.
I shook my head slightly, but followed them out anyway.
The hall was already filled by the time we got there.
Students stood in clusters, voices overlapping in a low buzz of excitement and curiosity. Something was happening.
Or about to.
You could feel it in the air.
That restless anticipation.
“What’s going on?” I asked, scanning the crowd.
“You didn’t hear?” Isabella said, her eyes lighting up immediately. “Mrs. Alexia is selecting the ten designers for the end-of-session runway show.”
My steps slowed.
Slightly.
Almost imperceptibly.
I didn’t respond.
I didn't need to.
My gaze stayed forward.
Focused.
Sharp.
This….
This was it.
Mrs. Alexia entered a moment later.
The room gradually fell silent.
Not completely.
“As you all know,” she began, her voice calm but commanding, “your training here is coming to an end very soon.”
A ripple moved through the room.
Expectation.
Tension.
“Because of that,” she continued, “we will be selecting the top ten designers among you.”
A few quiet gasps.
A shift in posture.
People straightened unconsciously.
“Those selected,” she went on, “will each create three original runway pieces.”
That drew a stronger reaction.
Excitement.
Nervousness.
Hope.
“And in three months,” she added, her gaze sharpening slightly, “during the final showcase…”
She paused.
Just enough.
“The top three designers of the year will be chosen from among you.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Electric.
This wasn’t like the monthly wins.
This wasn’t just another evaluation.
This was bigger.
Much bigger.
This was recognition.
Status.
Power.
A future.
I felt it then.
That familiar spark ignited somewhere deep inside me.
Not fear.
No doubt.
Something stronger.
Something that burned quietly but fiercely.
Hunger.
Mrs. Alexia lifted a file.
And just like that….
Everything began.
“The following names,” she said, her voice cutting cleanly through the silence, “are the ten designers selected for this year’s runway showcase.”
No one moved.
No one spoke.
The air itself felt tight.
Like it was being held in place.
She glanced down briefly.
“Isabella Soren.”
A sharp inhale sounded beside me.
Isabella froze.
Completely.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, grabbing my arm so tightly it almost hurt. “Oh my God… she called my name… did you hear that?!”
I smiled slightly.
“Go,” I murmured.
She straightened instantly, trying…and failing…to look composed as she stepped forward.
“Mila Reyes.”
Mila blinked, clearly caught off guard.
“For real?” she whispered softly.
I nodded once.
“Go.”
She gave a small, nervous smile before walking forward. Calm on the outside…
But I could see it.
The quiet determination in her eyes.
She wanted this.
Mrs. Alexia continued, her tone steady.
“Leonora Veyra.”
A subtle shift moved through the crowd.
Of course.
Leonora walked forward with her usual confidence, her chin slightly raised, her presence commanding attention.
Her gaze flickered briefly toward me.
A silent challenge.
I held it.
Unmoved.
Unshaken.
“Helena Voss.”
Another one.
A faint scoff echoed from somewhere behind me.
“Alessandra Veyra.”
The tension thickened.
Name after name.
Each one tightening something inside my chest.
Filling the room with quiet triumphs…
And invisible disappointments.
I kept my expression neutral.
Controlled.
But inside…
I was counting.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
My name hadn’t been called.
Not yet.
A small voice tried to rise.
What if…
No.
I shut it down instantly.
Mrs. Alexia looked down at the list again.
Then up.
“And…”
That single word stretched the silence even thinner.
“Alvara Dane.”
For a second…
I didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
Then Isabella’s voice rang out from the front.
“I KNEW IT!”
A few heads turned.
I exhaled slowly.
Of course.
Of course my name would be here.
Not hope.
Not luck.
Certainty.
I stepped forward, my movements calm, controlled, deliberate.
But I could feel it.
The weight of attention.
Eyes on me.
Some are filled with admiration.
Some with irritation.
Some…
With something darker.
Threatened.
Good.
That meant I was exactly where I needed to be.
Mrs. Alexia continued reading the remaining names, but I barely registered them.
I had already heard what mattered.
When I reached the front, I took my place beside the others.
Isabella leaned toward me immediately.
“You took your sweet time,” she whispered.
“You’re loud,” I replied without looking at her.
Mila smiled softly between us.
But across the line…
Helena’s gaze met mine again.
This time, there was nothing subtle about it.
No hidden meaning.
No pretense.
Just open rivalry.
Cold.
Clear.
Intentional.
I held her gaze for a second longer.
Then I looked away.
Not because I had to.
But because I didn’t need to prove anything.
Not yet.
Because one thing was already certain…
This wasn’t just a showcase.
It wasn’t just about talent anymore.
In three months…
Only three of us would stand above the rest.
And I had no intention..
Of being anything less than one of them.