VELVET CHAINS REVIVE

They never meant for Unwritten to be seen.

It started as a shared ritual — scraps stitched on quiet afternoons, threads tangled with whispered confessions. Every piece was imperfect on purpose. Misaligned. Hand-dyed. Some made with fabric they found in the backs of closets or dug out of dusty trunks in thrift stores. It wasn't polished, and that was the point.

It was themselves.

And somehow, that made it feel safer than anything they'd ever shown the world.

Until Camille walked in.

They hadn't heard the door.

Camille froze in the entryway, holding two iced lattes and a stack of press materials.

Ayden and Luca were bent over the mannequin, layering a draped jacket with shredded satin panels. Soft jazz crackled from an old Bluetooth speaker.

Camille blinked. "Did I miss a collection drop?"

Ayden flinched. Luca nearly dropped the pins in his mouth.

"Shit," Luca muttered.

Ayden turned. "It's not a collection."

Camille stepped in, eyes scanning the work on the rack behind them — thirteen pieces, each one stranger and more emotionally unhinged than the last. One had burned lace shoulders. One had poetry scrawled down the lining in red ink. Another had a sleeve sewn shut like a wound.

"It's stunning," Camille whispered. "And weird as hell."

Luca smiled nervously. "We didn't make it for show."

"Too late." Camille gestured with their chin. "I took a photo before I even knew what I was seeing. That jacket alone is going to haunt me."

Ayden sighed. "Please don't post anything."

"I won't," Camille said. "But… can I show someone?"

Luca and Ayden exchanged a glance.

"Who?" Luca asked.

"An old friend who curates at Galerie Solstice — the underground fashion-art fusion spot in Brooklyn. They're hosting a one-night exhibit for 'fashion born in grief.' I swear I'm not making that up."

Ayden laughed bitterly. "That's on-brand."

"They'd love this."

Ayden hesitated.

Luca looked excited. "It could be cool…"

Camille added, "And no press. No runway. Just people who want to feel something."

Ayden was quiet for a long moment.

Then he said, "Let me think about it."

Later that night, after Camille left, Ayden sat on the floor by the window, legs folded, sketchbook open but untouched.

Luca joined him, holding two mugs of sleepytime tea.

"You okay?" he asked.

Ayden nodded, but not convincingly.

Luca handed him the mug, then leaned back against the glass wall.

"I think you should do it," he said softly. "Let it be seen."

Ayden sighed. "I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"That it's not ours anymore once people start looking."

Luca leaned his head against Ayden's shoulder. "Maybe that's true. But maybe it helps someone else the way it helped us."

Ayden smiled faintly. "You're too good sometimes."

"I have to be. You're dramatic enough for both of us."

Ayden laughed. "Asshole."

"Yours."

They agreed to show three pieces.

Camille's curator friend adored it.

The pieces were titled without words — just symbols, like the memory of a breath or the echo of a missed heartbeat. One of them had wire stitched into the lining to make it collapse inward, like a body folding into grief.

The exhibit was set for the following Friday.

But that Wednesday, everything shifted.

Camille found the envelope in the trash.

Not on purpose — they were tossing out old takeout bags while looking for Luca's missing scissors.

But there it was.

A glossy folder from Thorne Creative Studios — the company that had offered Luca the reality show gig months ago.

Inside, a signed contract extension.

More filming.

A solo spin-off offer.

Without Ayden.

Camille stared at it in silence, heart thudding.

When Luca walked in from the hall humming to himself, Camille didn't hesitate.

"What's this?" they asked, holding it up.

Luca froze. "You went through my stuff?"

"It was in the trash."

"You still read it."

"You still hid it."

The air thickened.

Luca looked away. "It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" Camille snapped. "You're doing an entire spin-off series while working on Unwritten with Ayden and you didn't tell him?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"Then why'd you sign it?"

"I panicked!" Luca shouted, then lowered his voice. "I panicked. I didn't think I'd go through with it. But they caught me after my clip went viral, and I didn't want to seem ungrateful."

Camille's expression softened — but only a little.

"Luca, you know how Ayden reacts to secrets."

"I know," Luca whispered, voice breaking. "I just didn't want to mess up what we have right now. He's… peaceful. And I'm scared that if I say anything, he'll pull away again."

Camille looked at him for a long, long time.

Then said, "Secrets don't protect people. They just delay the heartbreak."

That night, Ayden found Luca pacing the studio.

Something was off.

"Hey," Ayden said gently. "What's going on?"

Luca turned, eyes wide, chest rising.

"I need to tell you something."

Ayden's stomach flipped.

And in the seconds before Luca said a word, Ayden already knew.

Because that's what it feels like when a seam tears — you don't see it first. You feel it pulling.