Page 235 of Invisible Bars
“One moment I was being fitted in c-couture… the next, I was twitching uncontrollably behind a curtain, sweating, spiraling, feeling like a walking spectacle.”
My voice cracked.
“I’d trained s-so hard to control my tics. Rehearsed breathing. Meds. Stillness. But when that one episode hit during fashion week, they didn’t see a person anymore—they saw aliability. And instead of helping me… they left me backstage. Alone.”
I paused again. “I still have dreams about it sometimes.”
Dessign’s reached out, squeezing my hand—no words, just presence.
I pulled in a breath and steadied myself.
“I’ve been h-healing slowly… and privately over the past three years. B-but I don’t think I could ever put myself through that again. Not for applause. Not for a check… not for the same industry that discarded me the minute I s-stopped being easy to package.”
I glanced up at the sky, searching for the right words.
“Modeling... it was my gift. I know that. My grandmother always said it was my calling. I… I walked for names I used to cut out of magazines. I’ve v-v-visited places most people only dream about. And for seven good years… I loved it. Truly.”
I gave a small, bittersweet smile.
“But maybe it was never m-meant to be permanent. Maybe God gave me that season to show me what I could do—and now it’s my job to use that experience to do something greater.”
Dessign’s eyes were glassy, shimmering with unspoken thoughts, as they remained locked on mine.
“If I ever return to that world, it won’t be as a desperate attempt to blend in; it’ll be as s-s-someone openingdoorsfor others.”
I took a deep breath, then added with conviction, “I... I dream of starting an agency—one dedicated to representing individuals with various conditions. Like mine… and like those of so many others. I e-envision a place where tics, scars, mooddisorders, and d-disabilities are not merely acknowledged but celebrated.”
A sudden jerk rolled through my left shoulder, sharp and involuntary, like my body was trying to interrupt me before I got too honest.
I paused, exhaled through it, and kept going.
“It would highlight r-real lives and showcase the beauty in our authentic selves. Models who a-aren’t filtered down to fit a mold. People who deserve to be seen for who theyare… not just how they pose,” I concluded.
Dessign wiped a tear, then laughed a little.
“See,that’sanother reason why I love you.”
I smiled gently. “I’m finally learning to love me, too.”
“Seriously, Naji, even if you never model again, don’t ever forget who you were when youdid. You were a whole moment.”
A few minutes of silence passed.
I stirred my rice absentmindedly, watching the steam rise, then glanced up at her.
“Can I a-ask you something this time?”
“Well, you just did?” she mimicked me.
I chuckled—then had a sharp outburst. A bark-like sound slipped out, making me flinch.
Thankfully, we were out on the patio, so the sound of laughter and clinking glasses around us muffled it. It wasn’t loud enough to turn heads, but just enough to make me want to sink into my seat, even though I knew Dessign wouldn’t judge me.
“But no, seriously,” she said, voice softening. “What’s up?”
I hesitated, then asked, carefully picking each word like it might bite me.
“I’m not trying to pry, but I am curious… how do you and Chi… y-you know…”
