"When you walk a runway for the first time, it's not just your body they see—it's your soul."
The lights were blinding.
Backstage buzzed with energy—hairspray, nerves, and last-minute adjustments to gowns that cost more than Fatima's monthly rent.
She stood near the edge of the stage, her fingers gripping the edge of a makeup table as she stared at her reflection in the mirror.
Tonight was the night.
Kai's fashion show.
Her debut.
Fatima had agreed to walk for him—not because she wanted to give in to old feelings, but because she wanted to prove something.
To herself.
That she could stand on a stage full of thin models and designer clothes and still be seen.
Still be enough.
Still be free.
Even if millions were watching.
Even if Dante was in the audience.
Even if Kai was waiting for her backstage.
---
Dressing for Freedom
The stylist zipped up the back of her dress—a sleek, black number that hugged her curves like a second skin. It wasn't padded. It wasn't altered. It fit perfectly because it was made for women like her.
Real women.
Fatima turned slightly, studying the way the fabric caught the light.
It was beautiful.
She was beautiful.
And she knew it.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
"Can I come in?"
She didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
Kai.
"Sure," she said, voice steady.
He stepped inside, dressed sharply in a tailored suit that screamed money and confidence.
"You look amazing," he said softly.
Fatima glanced at him through the mirror.
"Thanks."
There was a pause.
Then he asked, "Are you nervous?"
She smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know."
Kai chuckled. "I remember the first time I saw you walk."
She raised an eyebrow. "You mean when I tripped over my own feet at that charity gala?"
He smiled. "Yeah. You laughed it off. That's what I loved about you. You never let fear win."
Fatima looked down.
"I've been afraid a lot," she admitted quietly.
Kai frowned. "What do you mean?"
Fatima hesitated.
Then she began to speak.
---
Flashback: The Trauma That Shaped Her
She was sixteen again.
High school.
Overweight.
Laughed at.
Pushed around.
It started with a boy in gym class. He'd called her "the whale" one day during a game of dodgeball. Everyone laughed. Even the teacher.
After that, the name stuck.
Whale.
Blubber.
Fatty.
She stopped eating lunch.
Stopped wearing shorts.
Stopped smiling.
One day, after another round of teasing, she locked herself in the bathroom and cried until her eyes were swollen shut.
That night, she sat on her bed and took off her underwear.
Not because she was trying to rebel.
Because for once, she wanted to feel something other than shame.
No tight waistbands.
No digging seams.
Just air against her skin.
Freedom.
From that day forward, she stopped wearing underwear.
It became her secret rebellion.
Her silent protest.
And now?
Now the world knew.
---
Present Day: Backstage Confessions
Kai listened silently as Fatima spoke.
When she finished, he reached out and gently touched her arm.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"For what?" she asked.
"For leaving. For letting you carry that pain alone."
Fatima shook her head. "I carried it because I had to. But now? I don't need to anymore."
Kai looked at her carefully. "You're different now."
"I am," she said firmly. "I've grown. Changed."
"And yet," he murmured, "you still don't wear them."
Fatima smirked. "Only when I want to be trapped."
Kai grinned. "You were never meant to be caged."
Before either of them could say more, a voice came over the speaker.
"Next model ready!"
Fatima stood.
This was it.
Her moment.
She turned to Kai.
"Wish me luck."
He kissed her forehead.
"You don't need luck," he whispered. "You've got power."
---
The Runway Show: A Moment of Truth
The music started.
The crowd quieted.
And then…
Fatima stepped onto the runway.
Gasps.
Whispers.
Applause.
She walked slowly, confidently, every step a declaration.
She held her head high.
Let the cameras capture every curve.
Every scar.
Every stretch mark.
Every inch of her truth.
Halfway down the catwalk, she spotted Dante in the front row.
He was staring at her like she was the only woman in the room.
She gave him a small smile.
Then she looked toward the side of the stage.
Kai stood there, watching her like she was everything he'd ever lost.
She finished the walk.
Turned.
Came back.
And bowed.
The crowd erupted.
Standing ovation.
---
Aftermath: Emotions High
Backstage, Fatima was met with hugs, congratulations, and a flurry of photographers.
But all she wanted was a moment to breathe.
She slipped away from the chaos and found herself outside, standing in the alley behind the venue.
Cool air hit her face.
She closed her eyes.
And then—
"Hey."
She turned.
Dante.
He looked stunning in a dark suit, his curls pulled back into a low ponytail.
"You were incredible," he said softly.
Fatima smiled. "Thanks."
He stepped closer.
"I meant what I said earlier," he told her. "You inspire me."
Fatima looked at him carefully.
"What are you saying, Dante?"
He reached out, cupped her face gently, and kissed her.
Softly.
Slowly.
Like he was savoring her.
Fatima didn't pull away.
Instead, she leaned into it.
Let herself feel something other than pressure.
Other than history.
Other than pain.
She let herself feel desire.
Pure and simple.
---
Interrupted by Ghosts
They broke apart when someone cleared their throat.
Kai.
He stood a few feet away, arms crossed.
Fatima stepped back from Dante.
Kai looked between them.
"Well," he said flatly. "Looks like I missed something."
Fatima opened her mouth to explain, but Kai held up a hand.
"No need," he said. "I get it."
He turned to leave.
Fatima grabbed his arm.
"Wait."
He paused.
"I don't know what I'm doing," she admitted. "I don't know what I want."
Kai studied her.
"You'll figure it out," he said. "But just so you know… I'm not going anywhere."
Then he walked away.
Leaving her standing there.
Between two men.
Two choices.
Two hearts.
---
Late Night Texts and Heartbeats
Later that night, Fatima sat alone in her apartment, replaying the kiss with Dante and Kai's parting words.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from Kai:
Kai: You looked like a queen tonight. I hope you felt like one.
Another from Dante:
Dante: Tonight was magic. Can we do it again?
Fatima exhaled.
God help her.
She was falling for both of them.
Hard.
---
Fatima Moments
Fatima Fannel went to bed that night with a racing heart and a mind full of questions.
Who did she want?
Who did she need?
And who would she choose?
Only time would tell.