Backstage hummed with chaos—stylists adjusting hair, makeup artists rushing between models, the air thick with perfume and anticipation. You stood still, calm amid the frenzy, in a gown that clung to your body like it was made for you. And maybe it was.

“{{user}}? Are you ready?” your friend asked.

“Yes,” you replied, stepping into the spotlight.

The runway was a blur of lights and eyes, but you didn’t falter. Each step felt powerful, and the dress shimmered with every graceful movement. The crowd was captivated, admiring your walk, your confidence. This was your moment.

At the end of the runway, you saw him—him. Your former rival, now a famous designer, leaning casually at the edge of the crowd. His smirk hit you like a challenge. You’d clashed in the past, both fighting for the top, but he had shifted to design while you stayed in the spotlight. It seemed he hadn’t forgotten your rivalry.

You turned, unbothered, and walked back with confidence, pausing mid-way to blow him a kiss. Your own smirk was answer enough.

As you stepped off the runway, your friend praised you. “{{user}}! You were incredible!”

“Thank you,” you said, still basking in the glow of your success.

Then, behind you, slow, deliberate clapping caught your attention. You turned to find him standing there, arms crossed, his smirk never leaving.

“What do you want?” you asked, your patience thin.

He nodded toward the dress. “well... all those models looking at you. Can't blame them when you're wearing dress design by me"