VELVET CHAINS REVIVE

Milan smelled like rain and old money.

Ayden arrived under a gray sky, greeted by suited interns and flashing lights outside the venue. Duval's team ushered him through press checkpoints with rehearsed smiles and clipped accents.

He was seen here.

But not known.

And the only person he wanted to talk to — the one who made him feel grounded in rooms like this — wasn't answering.

Back in New York, Luca sat on a sound stage set painted to look like a high-fashion loft.

He'd just wrapped his first shoot.

It was chaos: ring lights, mics taped to his chest, producers asking him to say the same line ten different ways. A teenage designer had cried during his first critique. Cameras rolled the whole time.

And still… no reply from Ayden.

He checked his phone. Again.

Three missed calls.

None of them returned.

A text sat at the top of his screen.

AYDEN: "Landed. Interview was fine. I'll call you later."

Luca typed a reply. Deleted it. Typed again.

LUCA: "Call when you mean it. Not when it's convenient."

He didn't hit send.

Not yet.

Ayden's day bled into evening — interviews, meetings, then the private gala where he was seated beside a European critic who spoke of him like he wasn't there.

"Your use of silence in stitching — it's almost emotionally violent," the woman said. "Was it intentional?"

Ayden forced a smile. "Everything I do is."

But even in that polished room, he kept checking his phone.

Still nothing.

Still no Luca.

Luca hit send.

And instantly regretted it.

But the response came back fast.

AYDEN: "I'm not doing this through text, Luca."

LUCA: "Well maybe you should. Since you're never around long enough to look me in the eye."

Silence.

Then:

AYDEN: "Don't make this about abandonment. You knew I had to go."

LUCA: "And you knew I was drowning on my own show and still didn't call."

AYDEN: "Because every time I call, you sound more like someone I don't recognize."

LUCA: "Maybe because I'm finally becoming someone not standing behind you."

AYDEN: "And maybe that terrifies me."

A pause.

A full minute.

Then…

AYDEN: "I didn't want to say that. But it's true."

Luca stared at the screen.

His throat tightened.

And for the first time in months, he didn't know if love was enough.

That night, Ayden stood alone on the Milan balcony, phone cold in his hand, and whispered:

"I don't want to lose him."

And somewhere across the ocean, Luca whispered:

"I think I already am."