The hallway outside Matteo's room was dimly lit, a sterile silence hanging in the air. Eliane stood there, the dress clinging to her like a secret she couldn't shake off. Her phone buzzed again. Another message from him:
"Enter. Catwalk. Take your time."
She stared at the screen, her thumb trembling over the reply button, but she typed nothing. What reply could she possibly give?
A memory flickered..... Matteo in her classroom, eager, shy, misunderstood. She had mocked his silence, ridiculed his stutters, twisted his admiration into ammunition. And now...… now he was the one asking her to walk.
Like a doll.
Like a showpiece.
Is this karma?
Her fingers curled tightly around the phone. Maybe it was. Maybe this was the way of the universe leveling the scales. All those years she spent crushing his spirit, and now she stood here....dressed in her own creation, about to perform for the boy she once broke.
She took a deep breath.
Each step felt heavier than the last as she entered the room, her heels clicking on the marble like war drums. She didn't walk.....she glided. Shoulders straight. Chin lifted. Eyes cold, yet hollow. She performed the catwalk as instructed, every movement dripping with elegance, shame, and forced pride.
And Matteo watched.
Seated on the velvet chaise lounge, glass of wine in hand, his gaze sharp, unforgiving. He didn't smile. But there was satisfaction in the way he leaned back...like a king watching a conquered nation.
When she stopped in front of him, he stood. Slowly. Measured.
Then, without warning, his fingers tangled in her hair and yanked her head back. She gasped, more from shock than pain.
"Are you enjoying this?" he asked, voice low.
Eliane's lips trembled. "I'm….... sorry."
"Sorry?" His eyes narrowed. "Is sorry enough for what you did to me?"
Her breath caught in her throat.
"You tormented me, professor. You let them humiliate me. You watched me fall, every damn time, and you never reached out. I lost my parents because of the scandal. I lost everything."
Tears welled in her eyes. "I didn't tell anyone," she whispered. "I never told the principal you touched me. It was the girls...… they showed the video and twisted it. I said nothing."
Matteo's grip loosened slightly. "Then why didn't you stop them?"
"I was scared." Her voice cracked. " I needed the job. My mother was sick, and I needed money for her treatment. If I went against the principal, he would've fired me."
Matteo released her hair and stepped back.
"So you let me burn for your convenience."
Eliane shook her head. "It wasn't convenience....… it was desperation. You don't know how it felt, hiding every day. Watching you from afar. But the principal—he's corrupt. He takes bribes from the rich. He treats poor students like garbage. I was powerless."
Matteo's jaw clenched. "You weren't powerless when you laughed at me in front of the class."
"I know," she whispered. "That was me. That was my mistake."
"Why?" he asked. "Why did you do it?"
She looked at him, eyes hollow with regret. "Because you reminded me of myself. Of the pain I buried. The trauma I never healed from. You were quiet, lost, and innocent—and it terrified me. I saw too much of myself in you. So I lashed out. I tried to silence you the way no one had silenced me."
Meanwhile, in a luxurious restaurant in the heart of Geneva...
The chandelier sparkled above the white-clothed table where Annelise, Noemie, Seriana, and Lina sat, sipping wine and laughing softly. The air was scented with roasted truffle and garlic butter.
Annelise leaned back with a soft smile. "So my next shoot is for Élan Mode. They want me in this red fur coat and high boots, very winter-siren kind of vibe."
Lina groaned. "You live the dream. I'm stuck fetching coffee for a psychiatrist who barely remembers my name."
Noemie chuckled, swirling her wine. "Hey, I deal with screaming kids all day, but I still love them. There's something honest in their chaos."
Seriana adjusted her pearl bracelet. "Consumer research sounds glamorous, until you realize you're just watching people click 'skip ad' over and over again."
They all laughed, but there was an edge to it.
Annelise's phone buzzed, and she opened an email. "Oh! My spread's out in ModeVie."
Noemie's eyes lit up. "I saw that! Wait, I brought a copy...." She reached into her bag and pulled out a glossy magazine, flipping to the center spread. "Look at this! That black skirt and the leather jacket? You look like sin walking."
Lina leaned over, eyes narrowing. "Your waist looks tiny. Was that photoshopped?"
"Nope," Annelise said casually. "Just some corset work."
Seriana smiled thinly. "You really pull off anything, huh?"
The compliments came, but each one cut slightly.....drenched in admiration that tasted like envy.
"She's just got that face," Noemie said wistfully. "That look. If I wore that outfit, I'd look like a lost intern."
"I haven't worn a skirt in months," Lina muttered. "What's the point?"
They all laughed again, but it didn't reach their eyes. Behind their smiles was the silent ache of comparison.....the unfairness of beauty, the craving to be seen.
And Annelise, ever radiant, basked in their praise. But she wasn't blind.
She saw the flickers in their eyes, the long stares at her photos, the momentary silences.
She knew.
Jealousy was a quiet thing. It didn't shout. It whispered behind lipstick smiles.
Back in the quiet of Matteo's apartment, Eliane stood still.
"What now?" she asked.
Matteo didn't answer immediately. He stepped around her, slowly.
"I want to know," he said softly, "what you would do if the roles were reversed. If you were me."
She hesitated. "I don't know."
"Then think. Because I'm not done." he pushed her against the wall.
She swallowed hard. Outside the window, the city lights flickered.
Inside, the past burned between them like a fuse.