𝐹𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑋𝑜𝑛𝑒

𝐿𝑋𝐼𝐼

The flashing lights and cameras filled my vision as I strutted down the runway. It felt automatic now, like muscle memory. I didn't need to focus on the audience anymore; the spotlight was all that mattered. The clicks of the cameras and the murmurs of the crowd faded into a dull hum as I honed in on the runway in front of me. My model face was on, a perfected, effortless expression that oozed confidence, mixed with just the right amount of seduction. My body moved fluidly, strong yet sensual, the rhythm of my walk ingrained deep in my bones.

Behind me, Tyra led the way, her energy unmatched, a glowing beacon that always commanded attention. I was following her into the wings backstage, but my focus was split. There was too much happening, models hustling around, stylists running to adjust outfits, hair fluffed, makeup being touched up. It was a whirlwind, and I was just trying to keep up.

I stepped into the changing area and began to unclip the lingerie set, tossing it aside as Tyra effortlessly switched out her look. She had already moved to the next set, the hanger on her arm ready to drape the next beautiful ensemble over her. She was a natural.

But then she turned to me, her eyes warm, and her voice low, just above a whisper. "Pst..."

I glanced up at her, half distracted with the chaos around us, but her expression caught me off guard.

"I'm so proud of you, Mariah. You've come so far. I'm really gonna miss you," she said, giving me that big, radiant smile that only Tyra could deliver so genuinely.

My breath caught in my chest, unsure of how to respond. Was she implying what I thought she was? Why did it sound so final? She was leaving, was that it? Was this her way of saying goodbye?

Before I could get a chance to process what she'd said, a hand gripped my shoulder. I turned quickly, startled, and found a woman standing behind me. Her ponytail was sleek and tight, and the headset strapped to her head buzzed with static.

"Go out, Mariah," the woman said, giving me a sharp nudge toward the runway.

I barely had time to respond or even think about Tyra's words before I was pushed out onto the stage, the lights blinding me as I stepped back into the familiar world of flashing bulbs. High heels clicked against the floor, the sting of the cool air brushing over my skin as the lingerie clung to me like a second skin. My mind flickered for a moment, a flash of Tyra's smile, her words hanging in the air. But the moment I stepped out, all that mattered was the runway.

I inhaled deeply and threw myself into the walk. I was a pro at this, but tonight felt different, like everything was on the edge of something I couldn't quite control. Every step was sure, deliberate. The lights shone down on me, bouncing off the sleek fabric of the lingerie. I was in my element, but something tugged at my chest.

Tyra's smile echoed in my mind, reminding me of the subtle undercurrent of change in the air. I couldn't shake it. The runway stretched before me, but for the first time in a long while, I wasn't sure where I was headed.

The backstage was a blur, the chaos of the show still fresh in my mind, but a different kind of storm was brewing inside me. Tyra had vanished into the crowd, likely off to make her own rounds, but I was stuck in a whirlwind of my own emotions. I quickly changed into a pair of designer jeans, a dress shirt that gave a hint of cleavage, and a trench coat to shield me from the cold air outside. My heels clicked sharply against the concrete floor as I moved through the crowd, my eyes scanning the mass of people, trying to find her.

Then, I saw her, the back of Tyra's head. She was talking to someone, standing just a few feet away. I approached her quickly, my heart already pounding in my chest, not sure why I felt so nervous. I placed my hand on her shoulder, ready to ask her if she was leaving, but as she turned around, I froze.