In Love, Against All Odds

Arymeline 1

The morning sunlight streamed through the thin curtains of my new room, casting golden streaks across the walls. I blinked awake, my heart already hammering before my brain could fully catch up. Today was the day. Interview day. The day everything could change.

I swallowed down the nerves threatening to crawl up my throat and forced myself out of bed. The excitement, the anxiety, the weight of what this meant—it was all swirling inside me like some chaotic avant-garde pattern.

By the time I dragged myself into the kitchen, Adri was already there, leaning against the counter, one hand lazily swirling a coffee mug. She looked effortlessly cool, dressed in an oversized navy blazer over a fitted turtleneck, paired with structured wide-leg trousers.

"Morning, Kat," she greeted, sliding a fresh mug of coffee across the counter toward me.

"Morning," I mumbled, wrapping my hands around the warm ceramic, hoping it would somehow melt away my nerves.

Adri smirked, her dark eyes flicking over me knowingly. "Nervous?"

"Just a little," I admitted, taking a sip. "Or, like, a lot."

She let out a soft laugh. "You'll be fine. Arymeline loves fresh talent, and I've seen your work. They'd be straight-up delulu not to hire you."

I snorted, shaking my head. "Right, because multi-million-dollar brands are just out here waiting to hire underqualified fresh grads."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, but you are not underqualified. You got skills, Kat. You've been grinding for this. You got this."

Her confidence in me made something loosen in my chest. Maybe I could actually do this.

------

The city was already alive with movement as we stepped out of our apartment. Horns honked in the distance, the scent of fresh bagels and coffee lingered in the air, and people bustled down the sidewalks with purpose. But my mind wasn't on any of it.

Adri walked beside me, effortlessly cool as always, while I, on the other hand, felt like my stomach was in a perpetual backflip.

I had gone classic but chic with my outfit— a fitted cream blazer over a structured corset-style top, high-waisted tailored pants, and pointed-toe heels that clicked sharply against the pavement. My hair was styled into a sleek low bun, giving "I am a serious professional, please hire me."

Adri glanced at me and smirked. "You look the part. Very 'I belong here' energy."

"That's the goal," I muttered, smoothing down my blazer.

When we finally reached Arymeline, I froze outside the building.

It was even more breathtaking in person—sleek glass panels reflecting the city skyline, clean white signage standing bold against the modern architecture. People dressed in designer fits strode in and out, exuding an effortless I-know-exactly-what-I'm-doing aura.

My chest tightened. This was real. This was happening.

Adri, sensing my minor existential crisis, nudged me. "Girl, stop fangirling and get in here before they think you're a lost tourist."

I let out a nervous laugh and followed her through the revolving doors.

Inside, the space was aesthetic goals. White marble floors, chrome-accented furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows flooding the space with natural light—it looked like something straight off an interior design Pinterest board.

The lobby buzzed with people—some chatting in small groups, others balancing coffee cups and fabric samples, a few reviewing sketches on sleek tablets.

Adri led me to the reception desk, her stride confident like she did this every day (which, to be fair, she did).

She flashed the receptionist a smile. "Hey, this is Katherine Carter. She's here for the interview with the design team."

The receptionist—dressed in head-to-toe monochrome with the slickest eyeliner I'd ever seen—gave me a friendly nod and handed over a visitor badge.

"Good luck, Ms. Carter. You'll do great," she said.

I clipped the badge onto my blazer, my palms slightly sweaty.

The elevator ride up felt like forever. Adri leaned against the mirrored wall, watching me like a hawk.

"You're gonna slay," she said simply.

I exhaled sharply. "Manifesting."

The doors slid open at 10th floor, and I stepped into what could only be described as fashion heaven.

The design floor was an open-concept space, with clusters of desks surrounded by fabric rolls, sewing machines, digital sketch tablets, and mannequins dressed in half-finished creations. Some people were deep in discussions about mood boards, others were adjusting samples, and a few were styling outfits on models.

Adri gestured dramatically. "And here, my dear Kat, is where the magic happens."

I could barely take it all in. This was where I wanted to be.

We stopped outside a sleek glass-walled meeting room.

Adri turned to me, her expression softer now. "Alright, this is where I leave you. But I'll be right outside, so breathe, stay confident, and show them why you deserve this job."

I swallowed hard, nodding. "Thanks, Adri. I mean it."

She winked. "Now go make them regret not hiring you sooner."

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door.

Inside, four people sat at a long glass table—Mr. Ross (older, sharp-eyed), Ms. Natalie Fisher (a stylish woman in her 30s), Mrs. Mathias, and Mrs. Jordan.

After quick introductions, they asked me to present my portfolio.

I dove into my presentation, walking them through my design concepts, fabric choices, and technological innovations in fashion materials—touching on how smart fabrics, sustainable textiles, and AI-driven pattern-making were shaping the future of fashion tech.

They nodded along, occasionally exchanging glances. They asked about challenges I faced, how I handled critique, and what set me apart from others.

Somewhere along the way, my nervousness melted into excitement.

Fashion was what I loved. Talking about it felt natural.

By the time the interview ended, I felt good.

"We'll be in touch soon," Ms. Fisher said, shaking my hand.

I nodded, forcing myself to keep it together. "Thank you for this opportunity."

Adri was waiting just outside.

"Well?" she asked eagerly.

I let out a breath. "I think it went well."

Her grin was immediate. "Told you! You're built for this."

The rest of the day was a blur—she took me around, introduced me to her coworkers, and let me soak in the reality that I had just interviewed at Arymeline.

That night, back at our apartment, my phone buzzed.

An email from Arymeline.

Adri's eyes widened. "Girl, OPEN IT."

I took a deep breath, clicked it open, and froze.

Then I gasped. "I GOT THE JOB!"

Adri screamed. Full-on, unhinged scream. Then she tackled me into a hug.

"I KNEW IT!" she yelled, shaking me like a rag doll. "You're about to live your fashion-girl dream, babe!"

Laughter bubbled out of me. I did it. I actually did it.

This was just the beginning.

And I was so ready.