Now, it felt like being stuck,
Kareen stood in the dressing area and looked at the smeared lipstick on the vanity mirror.
Her color, a dark plum that looked great on her, was messed up and turned into a childish scribble.
She knew exactly who had done it.
Lately, something bad happened every day.
Her makeup went missing from her bag.
Her foundation was swapped for a color much too light.
Zippers broke on expensive dresses right before they were needed.
Eyelashes were crushed in their container.
Straps were missing from her shoes.
Each thing was small enough to ignore on its own, but together, they showed a clear pattern.
And Chloe's laugh always seemed a little too happy afterward.
Mathilda's glances to the side always lasted a bit too long.
Kareen wasn't just imagining things.
Someone was trying to hurt her.
She fixed her robe, feeling cold on her shoulders, and left the dressing room.
Outside, the air felt heavy and tense.
Models whispered by the windows.
Hair stylists suddenly stopped talking when she walked in.
One of the photographers wouldn't even look at her.
Kareen kept going.
She had to get through a practice session.
The runway was already lit up, a thin white line across the center of the practice room.
She stood in her place, head held high, hiding her fear.
The assistant called her name.
She started walking.
Click, click, click,
Halfway there, her heel got stuck on something, maybe a wire or a wrinkle that shouldn't have been there.
She almost fell.
She barely kept herself from falling with a quick twist.
But the damage was done.
Laughter echoed across the room.
Someone clapped in a sarcastic way.
And Chloe's voice cut through everything like poison.
"Careful, superstar, wouldn't want you to really fall this time."
Kareen didn't stop.
She walked to the end, turned, and walked back.
But she was already very angry.
She rushed off the runway and down the back hallway, ignoring anyone who tried to talk to her.
She was almost to the exit when she bumped into someone coming around the corner.
She swore and stepped back, then stopped moving.
It was Collins,
Of course.
He seemed relaxed, almost amused, like he had been waiting to find her there.
"What are you doing here?" she asked sharply,
He put his hands up like he was surrendering,
"Relax, I was just passing by, I thought I might see you."
"Again?" Her voice got louder, "How many times do I have to tell you to stay away from me?"
He smiled slyly,
"Come on, Kareen, don't be so dramatic, We had some good times.. "
"You gave my mother's precious necklace to your mistress," she said angrily, clenching her fists, "You can't talk about 'good times' like that didn't happen."
He rolled his eyes as if it wasn't a big deal,
Kareen moved closer,
"If you don't leave me alone," she said, her teeth clenched, "I will report you for bothering me and use every law to hurt you, I mean it, Collins."
Something showed on his face, maybe surprise, or even a little bit of fear.
He didn't say anything,
He just backed away slowly, quietly saying something, and walked the other way.
Kareen didn't stay to see him go away.
She opened the door and went outside, letting the sun feel like a punishment on her skin.
Her hands were shaking.
She couldn't deal with much more of this.
The rumors.
The messing things up.
The need to keep smiling when everything inside her was falling apart.
And now Collins too?
She was finished.
Completely finished.
The next day, Kareen sat on the bench in the studio, her arms crossed as she watched everyone else move around like normal.
She hadn't slept at all.
She hadn't eaten anything.
Her phone was still turned off.
But still, she was here, right on time.
The same helpers who talked about her now put up pictures on the wall like they hadn't laughed when she tripped on the runway.
Chloe walked by her once without saying anything, but with that same smile on her face.
Mathilda made a big show of helping another model into a dress that she knew was Kareen's size.
Silly games.
Tiring, deep, confusing games.
The kind that got under your skin until you started to doubt everything.
Kareen tried to focus.
She took a deep breath, reached for the makeup set in front of her, and stopped moving.
Half of the brushes were gone.
Again.
She looked around the room.
No one looked at her.
Not one person asked if she needed help.
No one offered another brush.
And the person who was supposed to help her with her hair? Nowhere to be seen.
She looked at the kit for a while.
Her fingers slowly made fists.
It wasn't about the brushes.
It was about what it meant.
You don't fit in here.
We'll make you give up before you do well.
By the middle of the day, she was wearing a loose white shirt and gold heels for a photo shoot for a company. The photographer smiled falsely at her before looking at Chloe, who was standing close by and talking to the assistant again and again.
Even the camera seemed to be judging her now.
Every flash felt like a hit.
Kareen tried to breathe through it.
She did every pose.
Tilted her head just right.
Held every position like her career depended on it, because maybe it did.
But inside, something broke more.
She could feel herself going into a place she hated, that empty mental space where everything started to feel numb.
Not angry.
Not sad.
Just… disconnected.
Like her body was here but her mind had left a long time ago.
By the time the shoot was over, she was more tired than she should have been.
But the day wasn't over.
"Kareen, they need you now in Dressing Room B for the clothes try-ons," a young helper mumbled quietly.
Kareen agreed and then walked down the hall, the sound of her heels softly echoing because of all the things she hadn't said.
She opened the door, thinking she would see many dresses and a quiet place to relax.
Instead, she saw Damon.
He was leaning on the table with his arms crossed and an expression that was hard to read.
She stopped moving.
"I didn't want this to happen," she said in a level tone.
"I know," he said, "I asked for five minutes with you."
She stayed still.
"I've been trying to call you," he added.
"I shut my phone off."
He nodded slowly in response.
Kareen crossed her arms over her chest.
"Okay?" she asked, "Say what you want to say and then let me get back to my job."
Damon looked at her, his eyes showing a strong feeling that she didn't want to name,
"I miss you," he said plainly, "Not just the sex… not just the secret moments, I miss everything about it."
Kareen swallowed hard, but she didn't say anything.
"I know I can't undo the mistakes I made so quickly," he continued, "But I want to try to do so. I don't want to share you with anyone. I never did, if I'm being honest with you. But I went along with it because I thought it was better than losing you forever."
Her breath caught in her throat.
He moved closer, doing it gently this time.
"No more games, Kareen. No more surprises at all. Just tell me what I need to do. I'll do it for you."
She looked closely at him.
At the man whose touch used to make her feel alive.
Who made her feel emotions she'd kept hidden for years.
Who had also broken her trust and watched her fall apart without trying to stop it.
And for a brief moment, she almost reached out to him.
Almost did it.
But the memory of Andrew's kiss.
Of Collins's proud look.
Of Chloe's lipstick on the mirror.
Of her missing makeup tools.
It all came together like a tidal wave.
She took a step back away from him.
"I need some space to myself," she said quietly, her voice feeling rough,
Damon tightened his jaw, but he nodded his head.
"I'll be here to wait," he said to her.
She turned without saying anything else and left him standing in the room.
That night, she walked into her apartment, locked the door after coming in, and kicked off her shoes like they were heavy items.
Her bag dropped onto the couch.
Her heels rolled on the floor.
She didn't bother to turn on any lights.
She stood in the darkness for a little while.
Breathing in and out.
Shaking a bit.
Feeling alone.
When she finally turned her phone back on, it lit up with all the things she had been ignoring.
Andrew.
Damon.
Many calendar reminders.
Three missed calls from her work.
She ignored everything.
She walked to her bedroom, opened her drawer, and took out her journal, one she hadn't written in for weeks.
She sat with her legs crossed on the bed and stared at the empty page.
She didn't even know the words that she wanted to write.
She was worn out from always wanting things.
She was worn out from having everyone look at her but still feeling like nobody saw her.
She did not want to be a trophy in a constant battle between two people.
She was done being the person everyone admired when her life was secretly in chaos.
She felt worn out.
She felt extremely worn out.
And when she finally grabbed a pen, she did not write about her emotions.
She just wrote one word repeatedly.
Enough.