Tangled summer hearts

5. upcoming meeting

Anya's pov:

   The whole night was shit. I wasn't able to sleep one bit, and when I was finally able to doze off my shitty phone started ringing like a nightmare in my beautiful fairytale. Okay, I admit I am not in a fairytale nor I wanna be but, still. Everyone has the right to have their own kind of fairytale and mine happens to be sleeping.

A small groan escaped from my lips and I stretched my hands to pick the phone from my nightstand. I lazily brought the phone down and checked the caller i'd rubbing my eyes.

Oh it's mr. Miller. I used to work under him when I was an intern at Kensington Atelier.

I answered the call in a rush God my morning voice sounds like a pig. "Hello, mr. Miller."

"Hey Anya, I guess you we're sleeping, weren't you?" He asked in a amusing voice.

"Oh, yeah actually I was haha." I chuckled weirdly.

"Oh by the way, I called to ask you about the project we were discussing about a month ago. Actually it's more like a meeting cause, mrs. Kensington is finally back with her son and she is ready to take the collaboration further. So, if you're free then she wants to meet to tonight at Kensington Atelier by 7 pm."

God I forgot about this whole thing. How could I. I am such a big idiot. I haven't prepared any ideas for the project as well, and I do not want to let mrs. Kensington down with my poor performance.

I have to do something or else, a very big project gonna skip from the palm of my hands.

Damn.

I discussed a little more about the deal with mr. Miller and decided to go and take a warm shower before going down. It's not like I am dying to look at the faces of the people who share the same roof with me.

I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed, still groggy from the restless night. The call from Mr. Archer haunted my thoughts, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread it left behind. With a sigh, I decided a hot shower might help clear my head.

As I stepped into the bathroom, I glanced at my reflection. Dark circles underscored my eyes, a testament to the sleepless night I’d endured. I turned on the shower, letting the steam fill the room before stepping under the warm spray. The water cascaded over me, and I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the present moment.

The events of last night replayed in my mind. Mr. Archer's voice, cold and threatening, echoed in my ears. "Stay away from Ryan. Leave without telling anyone the truth." His words were a constant reminder of the precarious situation I found myself in. The weight of his threats bore down on me, but I couldn’t let him control my actions. Not this time.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing thoughts. The shower did little to wash away the anxiety that clung to me, but it did help me feel somewhat human again. I finished washing up, turning off the water and stepping out. Grabbing a towel, I wrapped it around myself and stood in front of the mirror.

“Get it together, Anya,” I whispered to my reflection. Today was important, and I needed to focus on the business deal with Mr. Miller. It was an opportunity I couldn’t afford to miss.

I headed back to my room, still lost in thought. As I rummaged through my closet for something professional yet stylish to wear, my mind kept drifting back to the implications of Mr. Archer's call. He was powerful, and his reach was far, but this meeting could potentially offer me a way to counteract his influence.

Dressed and somewhat collected, I checked the time. There was still a bit before the meeting, enough to gather my thoughts and prepare. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I picked it up, half expecting another ominous message from Mr. Archer. But it was a text from Amelia, suggesting we grab lunch.

After lunch, it makes sense for Anya to focus on her work, especially since she is a dedicated fashion designer. She could visit her studio or workspace to prepare for the evening meeting with Mr. Miller. This could involve sketching new designs, reviewing fabric samples, or putting the finishing touches on her latest collection.

Here's how the scene might unfold:

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After a quick shower, I dressed and headed out to meet Lia for lunch. It was already past 1 PM, and my stomach growled in protest. The thought of a good meal and some time with my best friend lifted my spirits.

We met at our favorite café, a quaint little place with outdoor seating and the best sandwiches in town. As we settled in, Lia immediately picked up on my mood.

"Rough night?" she asked, concern in her eyes.

I nodded, taking a sip of my iced tea. "You could say that. Just dealing with some... family issues."

Lia gave me a sympathetic look but didn't press for details. Instead, she launched into a funny story about her latest dating mishap, and soon, I was laughing along, feeling the weight of last night's events lift a little.

After lunch, I decided to head back to my studio. As a renowned fashion designer, my work was both my passion and my refuge. The studio, with its high ceilings, large windows, and walls adorned with sketches and fabric samples, was my sanctuary.

Walking into the studio, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. The organized chaos of my workspace—bolts of fabric, mannequins draped in half-finished designs, and the soft hum of the sewing machine—was a comforting reminder of my creative escape.

I settled into my favorite chair and opened my sketchbook. The events of the previous night still weighed heavily on my mind, but here, I could channel that energy into something productive. I began sketching, the pencil gliding smoothly across the paper, bringing my latest ideas to life. The lines and shapes started to form a new collection, each piece reflecting a part of my journey.

Hours flew by unnoticed. I was so engrossed in my work that I barely registered the passing time until my phone buzzed with a reminder. The meeting with Mr. Miller was tonight, and it was crucial. Not only was he a key business partner, but this meeting could also open doors for new opportunities and collaborations.

I glanced at the clock. It was already past 4 PM. Time to wrap things up and start getting ready. I carefully put away my sketches and fabric samples, tidying up the workspace. As I stood up, I caught my reflection in the large mirror—a mix of determination and exhaustion.

The shower was a welcome relief. The hot water cascaded down, washing away the tension and clearing my mind. As I rinsed off, I couldn't help but think about last night. Mr. Archer's call, his veiled threats, and the pressure to leave. But I wasn't going anywhere. Not yet.

I stepped out of the shower, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. Wrapped in a towel, I walked to my wardrobe to pick out an outfit for the meeting. It had to be perfect—not just professional, but a statement. Something that said I was in control, no matter what obstacles came my way.

After carefully selecting a tailored suit, I got dressed and took a final look in the mirror. Ready. I was ready for this meeting, ready to face whatever challenges came my way, and most importantly, ready to stay and fight for what mattered to me.

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