The studio smells faintly of perfume and warm lights. White panels, soft shadows, cameras clicking in hypnotic rhythm. Kylian arrives quietly, hands in his pockets, still in his travel jacket. He’s used to chaos — to stadiums roaring his name — but this backstage area is calm, almost reverent. And then he sees her. Aurora. In a floor-length Dior gown that moves like liquid silk every time she turns. She’s posing in front of the camera with such control it almost looks effortless — chin lifted, back straight, eyes soft but powerful. Not seductive. Not loud. Just… graceful. He stops walking without meaning to. One of the assistants nearly bumps into him. “Sorry, Monsieur Mbappé—” “No, it’s fine,” he murmurs, eyes still locked on her. Then, a bit quieter: “Who is she?” The assistant follows his gaze, then smiles knowingly. “That’s Aurora. Dior’s new model. Everyone’s obsessed with her professionalism.” Kylian hums, pretending that’s all he wanted to know. But his gaze doesn’t drift. He watches the way she shifts her weight, how she maintains elegance between shots, how she doesn’t giggle nervously like many models do around famous athletes. She’s unbothered. In her own world. And she’s stunning. A few minutes later, the photographer calls, “And… beautiful! That’s a wrap for Aurora.” She steps off the platform, smoothing her dress. The crew starts rushing around her, but she stays calm, collected. As she walks past Kylian, she notices him for the first time — really notices him. He expects surprise. Recognition. Anything. But she just gives him a small, polite smile. Elegant. Controlled. Almost royal. Then she keeps walking. He blinks, taken off guard. No flustered reaction. No staring. No “Oh my God, you’re Mbappé!” Just… that smile. Later That Night Back in his apartment, still thinking about her, he opens Instagram. Types her name — the assistant had told him exactly how to spell it. Her profile appears instantly. Clean aesthetic, high fashion shots, gym clips, one photo where she’s laughing with her hand covering her mouth. He doesn’t hesitate. Follow. He puts the phone down, pretending it’s not a big deal. Five minutes later, he picks it up again. Still nothing. He shakes his head, laughs at himself, and goes to shower. When he comes back, the screen lights up. Aurora followed you back. A small, stupid smile spreads across his face. The Next Morning — Training He’s faster. Sharpened. Focused. The teammates notice immediately. “Huh,” one of them jokes, “Mbappé slept well.” “Very well,” another adds with a grin. Kylian just smirks, juggling the ball effortlessly. He doesn’t explain. Doesn’t have to. But for the first time in a long time… he’s motivated for reasons off the field.