Page 41 of And Back

His words are heavy with sincerity and remorse. Tears well up in my eyes as I listen to him, my heart softening with each word. "I understand why you did it, Virgilio," I say, my voice trembling. "And I'm sorry too. I see now that you were trying to keep me safe, and I should have trusted you more. Thank you for everything you did for me."

He steps closer, wrapping his arms around me in a tight embrace. The tension between us melts away, replaced by relief and warmth. The familiar scent of his cologne envelops me. Oh, how I've missed this.

"I never wanted to hurt you," he whispers against my hair.

"I know," I reply softly, burying my face in his chest. "And I never wanted to leave you. But we can't keep secrets from each other anymore."

He nods, pulling back slightly to look into my eyes. "No more secrets," he promises.

I smile through my tears, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. "No more secrets," I agree.

We stand there for a moment, just holding each other, before I tilt my head up and press my lips to his. The kiss is gentle at first, a tentative exploration of familiar territory. But soon it deepens, fueled by the pent-up emotions we've both been carrying in our hearts.

His hands cradle my face as he kisses me back with a fervor that leaves me breathless. It's as if all the pain and misunderstandings are being washed away in this one moment of connection.

When we finally pull apart, we're both breathing heavily, our foreheads resting against each other.

"I love you," he says quietly, his voice raw with honesty.

"I love you too," I reply, feeling the truth of those words resonate deep within me.

We share another kiss, this one softer but no less meaningful. It's a promise to move forward together, to face whatever challenges come our way as a united front.

Hand in hand with Virgilio, I return to the main hall. My heart feels lighter, my confidence bolstered by our encounter. The warmth of his hand in mine is a silent promise that we’re in this together. As we approach our seats, I catch sight of Valerie, her elegant figure poised and composed.

Valerie smiles warmly as we take our seats beside her. "Everything is ready," she whispers, her eyes sparkling with excitement. The reassurance in her voice calms the last of my nerves.

I glance across the room and spot Sabine, seated on the opposite side. Her gaze reflects a poisonous blend of disdain and jealousy, but Valerie’s calm demeanor is unwavering. She simply ignores Sabine's dirty looks, focusing instead on the task at hand.

A man in a sharp suit steps up to the podium at the front of the room. He clears his throat and begins to speak, his voice echoing through the hall. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to this highly anticipated runway show. Today, we have gathered some of the most talented designers to showcase their creations.

"He pauses, allowing the audience to settle before continuing. "Before we begin, let me introduce our esteemed panel of judges."

He gestures towards a group of well-dressed individuals seated at a long table near the runway. They each nod or wave as their names are called out, their faces serious but expectant.

“First, we have Emilia Castelli, editor-in-chief of Vogue Italia.” A sophisticated woman with a sharp bob and an air of authority nods curtly. Her presence alone sends a ripple of excitement through the crowd.

“And next, Mark Faberson, renowned fashion critic and author.” Mark offers a polite wave, his expression betraying nothing but professional interest. His reputation for brutally honest reviews is well-known.

“Following him is the talented designer, Amber Sander.” Amber, a vision in a chic black ensemble, acknowledges the crowd with a warm smile. Her innovative designs have been making waves in the industry.

"Now, without further ado," the man says with a flourish, "let's begin the show!" The lights dim slightly, and a hush falls over the crowd.

I squeeze Virgilio’s hand tightly, feeling his reassuring presence beside me. This is it—the moment we’ve all been waiting for. After fifteen years, we made it.

My heart races with anticipation as I lean my head on Virgilio's shoulder, feeling the comforting rise and fall of his breath. The runway show begins, and the first model steps out, clad in an elegant gown I designed that seems to float with every step. My heart skips a beat.

The model glides down the runway, exuding confidence and grace. My breath catches as I see my vision brought to life with such elegance. The audience murmurs appreciatively, their eyes fixed on every detail. Virgilio squeezes my hand, his silent support a balm to my nerves.

"That's one of mine," I whisper to him, unable to hide the pride in my voice. He turns his head slightly to kiss my temple, his lips warm against my skin.

"You're incredible," he murmurs back, his words filling me with a renewed sense of confidence.

More models follow, each showcasing a different piece from my collection. The flowing lines, bold colors, and innovative cuts all come together to create a cohesive and striking presentation. As each design takes its turn on the runway, I feel a swell of pride for the hard work and late nights that went into creating them.

"That one too," I point out as another model struts down the runway in a sleek, tailored suit.

When Sabine's designs start appearing on the runway, I watch intently. Her pieces are equally impressive—bold, edgy, and meticulously crafted. Despite our rivalry, I can’t help but admire her talent.

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