Rachel designs a fashion line inspired by you

Rachel Greene never thought she’d be taken seriously as a designer— not in this city, not in this industry, and definitely not this early in her career.

But then you walked into her life.

And everything changed.

It didn’t happen all at once. It happened in the quiet moments.

The way you rolled your sleeves when helping her sort fabric. The confidence in your walk when you crossed the apartment. The subtle style choices you made without even trying— colors that felt like you, shapes that felt like warmth, little details she found herself sketching when she wasn’t paying attention.

She didn’t realize you were becoming her muse… until Monica found her fourth consecutive sketch of you.

“Rach,” Monica said, staring at the page, “this is getting a liiiittle obsessive.”

Rachel yelped and slammed the sketchbook shut. “It’s not obsessive! It’s inspiration! Or—uh—accidental inspiration!”

Monica raised an eyebrow. “Right. Totally accidental that you drew their face four times.”

Rachel practically shoved her out.

But after Monica left, Rachel opened the sketchbook again, staring at the designs inspired by pieces of you—your energy, your gestures, your comfort.

And for once… she didn’t feel embarrassed.

She felt proud.

Two weeks later, she invited you to her apartment.

Rachel was pacing before you arrived, muttering to herself:

“Okay, Rachel, don’t be weird. Don’t say ‘Hey, I made clothes because you exist.’ That’s creepy. Say something normal. Like—uh—‘Surprise, you inspired my soul.’ Nope, that’s worse—”

A knock saved her from spiraling. You walked in, smiling, holding two coffees.

“Okay,” you said, “what’s the big mystery?”

Rachel swallowed hard. “Um… I made something.”

She walked you to the table, where she’d laid out her designs—neatly arranged, color-coordinated, organized like she actually knew what she was doing.

Modern silhouettes. Soft lines. Structured jackets with your confidence. Relaxed knits with your warmth. Colors that made her think of you—without ever meaning to.

You scanned the sheets.

Then you froze.

“…Rachel,” you whispered. “These are… beautiful.”

She exhaled shakily. “You like them?”

“Like them? They’re—you’re—Rachel, these could be in a real collection. They feel like you.”

She shook her head quickly.

“No. They feel like you.”

You looked up, surprised.

Rachel’s cheeks warmed. “It wasn’t on purpose at first. I’d be sketching, and suddenly it’d look like something you’d wear or something that… reminds me of you. And then I realized—” She laughed softly, embarrassed. “I realized I made a whole line by accident.”

You stepped closer.

“So… I’m your muse?”

She covered her face with her hands.

“Please don’t say it like that, oh my God—”

You gently pulled her hands down.

“No. I mean it in the best way.”

Rachel swallowed, eyes soft.

“You inspire me,” she admitted. “Not just the clothes. You make me brave enough to try"