In Love, Against All Odds

Work And Work

The days passed in a blur of fabric, sketches, and meetings. I had fallen into a rhythm at Arymeline, and to my surprise, I liked it way more than I thought I would. The fashion world was intense—fast-paced, cutthroat, and absolutely exhausting—but it was also exhilarating. There was a certain thrill in watching designs come to life, seeing an idea transform from a rough sketch into a stunning, tangible creation. Every day was different, filled with unexpected challenges, but somehow, I thrived in the chaos.

Adri, as always, was brilliant. The way she designed dresses? It was like watching an artist at work. Her pieces weren't just clothes—they were statements, bold yet elegant, with sharp lines and intricate details that made them stand out. She had an eye for structure, and I helped her bring that vision to life by sourcing the right materials. We worked seamlessly together, our ideas bouncing off each other like a well-practiced routine.

"Kat, what do you think of this fabric for the evening gown collection?" Adri asked one afternoon, holding up a swatch of emerald green silk.

I ran my fingers over the material, feeling its softness and weight. "It's perfect. The way it'll drape? Literal perfection. Plus, the sheen? It's giving luxury."

She grinned, pleased. "Exactly what I thought."

There was something incredibly satisfying about watching our designs go from mere concepts on paper to actual, wearable art. The energy at Arymeline was electric, and for the first time in a long while, I felt at ease. Sure, the pressure was there, but I was getting the hang of it, growing more confident in my role.

And then there was Flynn.

Flynn worked on the men's line, and honestly? He was impossible to ignore. He had this easygoing charm that made it hard not to like him. The kind of guy who could light up a room with his grin, who always had a joke ready when things got too tense. We started talking more, especially during breaks, and before I knew it, he'd become a constant in my day.

One afternoon, after a brutal meeting where a client changed their mind for the fifth time, I sat by the window in the break room, trying to decompress. Flynn walked in, two cups of coffee in his hands, and plopped down beside me.

"Rough day, huh?"

I exhaled, rubbing my temples. "Understatement of the year."

Flynn chuckled, handing me one of the cups. "Here. Figured you could use some caffeine before you start throwing things."

I took it, shooting him a look. "Please, I have some self-control."

"Uh-huh," he said, smirking. "That's exactly what you said before almost stabbing Theo with a pen last week."

"That was different," I defended. "He was being insufferable."

Flynn laughed, shaking his head. "You're dangerous, Kat. But, y'know, in a cute way."

I blinked, my brain short-circuiting for a second. "I—what?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, but his smirk remained. "Just saying. I like dangerous girls."

I rolled my eyes, but I could feel the heat creeping up my neck.

And it didn't stop there. Over the next few weeks, I started noticing little things. Flynn always made sure to sit next to me during meetings, even when there were other seats available. He'd grab me coffee in the mornings—without me even asking. And sometimes, I'd catch him watching me, his gaze lingering a little too long before he looked away.

Emma, a girl from another team, caught on fast.

"Flynn's totally into you," she said casually one afternoon while we sorted through fabric swatches.

I almost dropped a roll of velvet. "What? No way."

Emma smirked. "Oh, come on, Kat. Everyone sees it. The way he hovers around you? The 'casual' coffee runs? He's definitely interested."

I scoffed, but my face felt warm. "We're just friends. Besides, I'm not looking for anything like that right now."

"Sure," Emma said, but her knowing look stayed. "Just keep your eyes open. Flynn's a catch."

I brushed it off, but her words lingered.

And then, as if the universe wanted to personally test my patience, I ran into Lydia.

Lydia was the head of another team, and if there was one thing everyone at Arymeline knew, it was this: Lydia was the worst. She had power, and she loved making sure everyone knew it. She was rude, demanding, and had zero patience for anyone she considered beneath her—which was basically everyone.

I had just walked into the common area when I saw her ripping into Emma over a minor mistake.

"This is unacceptable," Lydia snapped, holding up a sketch. "Do you not understand basic design principles? This is not what I asked for!"

Emma, to her credit, kept her head down, nodding silently.

I saw red.

"Hey," I said, stepping forward before I could stop myself. "Cut her some slack. We're all under pressure here."

Lydia turned to me, eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?"

I didn't back down. "You don't have to talk to her like that. Mistakes happen. Maybe try constructive criticism instead of, y'know, public humiliation?"

For a second, she looked shocked that I had dared to challenge her. Then, she sneered. "Stay in your lane, Katherine. You barely belong here."

Ouch.

Emma grabbed my arm before I could say something I'd regret.

"Don't," she whispered.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to take a breath. Lydia wasn't worth it.

But as we walked away, Emma shot me a grateful look. "Thanks, Kat."

I smiled. "Anytime."

Later that day, I stumbled across Theo and Adri arguing.

"I don't get why you're being so stubborn about this," Theo said, exasperated.

"Because you don't get it," Adri snapped. "This is my work, Theo. I know what I'm doing."

I stood awkwardly near the doorway, watching them go back and forth. Theo ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.

"I'm not saying you don't," he muttered. "I just—ugh, whatever. Forget it."

Adri huffed, crossing her arms. "Fine."

Fine? Fine never actually meant fine.

But before I could intervene, Theo stormed off, leaving Adri fuming.

"You good?" I asked cautiously.

She sighed, rubbing her temples. "Honestly? No. But I'll live."

That night, as I lay in bed, my mind wandered. To Flynn. To Patrick.

Patrick.

I hated that his name still took up space in my head. Some days, I thought I was over it. Other days, it hit me out of nowhere—the memories, the betrayal, the heartbreak.

But Arymeline was helping. Adri was helping.

And maybe—just maybe—Flynn was too.

I wasn't ready for anything new.

But for the first time in a while, I didn't feel stuck.

And that? That was enough.