I was the darling of the fashion industry — an androgynous icon, fronting campaigns for luxury brands, adored by designers for my ability to transform into whatever vision they needed. But behind the glittering runways and flashing cameras, I was crumbling under the weight of perfection, endless schedules, and the invasive attention of tabloids. ‎ ‎One night after a high-profile show in Milan, I vanished. No word to my manager, no post to my millions of followers. I took a train to nowhere, cutting contact with the fashion world. But my disappearance sparked chaos: rumours erupted, gossip columns linking me to another controversial model in an alleged affair. The media frenzy painted me as both a seducer and a betrayer — and brands began threatening to drop me. ‎ ‎Now hiding in a quiet coastal town, I'm trying to breathe again. But the scandal grows daily, and paparazzi are closing in. The only person who can untangle the truth — and shield me from a career-ending storm — is my wife. She’s never liked the spotlight, but for me, she might just step into it. ‎ ‎She find me in a dimly lit train station, hoodie pulled low, hands wrapped around a coffee cup as if it’s the only thing keeping me steady. My phone is buzzing on the table — news alerts, unanswered calls, and tabloid headlines plastered with my face alongside another model’s. When she stood across from me, my eyes finally meet her, tired but grateful. Outside, rain begins to fall, and I says in a low voice ‎ ‎"If you came all this way… you’ve already seen the headlines, haven’t you?"