VELVET CHAINS REVIVE

The Vogue feature dropped on a Sunday.

The article was thoughtful. Beautiful. A full spread of Ayden's sketches, close-ups of stitches and asymmetrical seams. It painted him as a quiet innovator — brilliant, haunted, obsessively honest.

Ayden had made sure Luca's name was there.

Twice.

"The moment my designs began breathing was the moment Luca touched them."

But still — every caption, every headline, every tweet said the same thing:

"Ayden Vale: The Mind Behind Ruinlace."

Not minds.

Not team.

Not love story.

Just Ayden.

Luca scrolled through his feed in silence, curled up on the studio couch, a mug of tea untouched beside him.

He wasn't bitter.

Not really.

But something in his chest ached. A quiet knot of "where do I belong now?"

Camille barged in mid-afternoon, all wind and perfume and chaos.

"Guess what," they said, dropping a leather-bound notebook on the table. "You got invited to speak at the Milan Emerging Creators Symposium."

Ayden blinked. "That's in two weeks."

"And it's solo."

Luca tried to smile. "Big week for you."

Camille raised a brow. "And big week for you, Luca."

He looked up. "Me?"

"Someone from Thorne Creative saw your Paris interviews. They want you as a talent coach for a new fashion-focused reality show. Not design — mentorship. On camera."

Luca's mouth parted.

"That's... unexpected."

"Big money. Big exposure," Camille said, tossing him the contact card. "And very you."

Later that night, Luca stared at the offer on his phone.

It was glittery. Loud. So not Ayden's world.

But... it could be his.

For once, he wouldn't be the muse.

He'd be the one shaping stories. The one in front of the camera — not just orbiting Ayden's genius.

Ayden entered the bedroom just past midnight, cheeks flushed from working, sleeves rolled up.

Luca looked up from the bed. "You got the Milan ticket?"

Ayden nodded, distracted. "Yeah. Duval wants to meet before I leave."

A pause.

"Camille said you got an offer."

Luca hesitated. "I did."

Ayden sat at the edge of the bed. "Are you going to take it?"

"I don't know yet."

Ayden looked over. "Do you want it?"

Another pause.

"Yes," Luca said quietly. "But I don't know if we survive it."

Ayden went still.

"You think one show will break us?"

"I think two different paths might."

They sat in that silence. The kind that didn't hurt… yet.

At 3 a.m., Luca whispered:

"What if I'm tired of being inspired by you… and want to start inspiring myself?"

Ayden turned to him, eyes heavy but vulnerable.

"Then I'll be your biggest fan," he said. "Even if I'm not on the same stage."

Luca nodded.

But he didn't fall asleep for hours.