slow updates.
𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀 𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐒┃❝ some souls are stiched from sorrow long before they even breath ❞
❛
𝖻𝗈𝗋𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝘄𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗸𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇,
𝗁𝖺𝗅𝖿 𝖺 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗍, 𝗁𝖺𝗅𝖿 𝖺 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗶𝗻.
𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝗍𝗁�...
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𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐑 ❛ behind the glass ❜
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐎𝐒, in its simplest and most honest form, was not loud screaming or things breaking apart.
it was bodies pressed too close together, overlapping voices, perfume mixing with impatience, entitlement brushing against desperation.
it was humans — nature’s most persistent experiment.
like, really..?
even after millions and billions of waiting, the nature was successful in creating a being who had independent thoughts and was smart.
nature would be so disappointed.
humans were crowding into a single space and believing, foolishly, that they were all entitled to the same moment.
aurora plaza was drowning in them.
people flooded the polished floors like a living tide, shoes clicking in frantic rhythms, laughter too sharp to be genuine, phones raised for proof that they were here first.
groups clustered everywhere, orbiting storefronts like moths drawn to controlled luxury.
staff members moved like trained dancers, smiling through the tension, guiding, redirecting, soothing egos that cost more than their monthly salaries.
it was obvious why.
the new collection had dropped today.
AIR.
alexander winters’ name alone was enough to summon crowds across borders, and the fact that the first stock was released exclusively here turned aurora plaza into a pilgrimage site.
it was tradition — no, a ritual — that winters’ designs debuted on these floors before touching the rest of the world.
some whispered it was strategy.
others insisted it was sentiment.
either way, the result was the same.
chaos.
alexander winters was more than a top model.
she was an idea carefully curated into human form — unreachable yet relatable, effortless yet precise.
the younger generation adored her not just because she was beautiful (though that too), but because she appeared untouchable without being cruel.
a role model wrapped in expensive fabric and discipline.
even the kims, who had grown up surrounded by influence and wealth, felt the pull.
and y/n felt the headache.
it crept in slowly, starting behind her eyes and spreading outward, triggered by the noise, the density, the closeness of too many people existing in her personal space.
