The applause from the gala still echoed in Anabelle’s ears as she stepped into her hotel suite that night.
The city lights of Paris shimmered through the tall glass windows, painting her reflection in gold and silver. She slipped off her heels, her feet aching, and dropped her clutch onto the couch.
The room was silent except for the faint hum of traffic below. For a long moment, she just stood there, staring at her own reflection.
The woman in the mirror looked poised and perfect — the Global Designer of the Year, wrapped in silk and diamonds. But behind that calm face, Anabelle felt a strange emptiness, a quiet she hadn’t noticed until now.
She walked toward the window and pressed her hand against the glass. The Eiffel Tower glowed in the distance, steady and bright. “You did it,”
