The day had finally come. The day months of effort, sleepless nights, and relentless determination had led to.
Fashion Week — the grand event that would either make or break Ashford Enterprises' reputation.
The venue buzzed with energy. Bright lights bathed the vast hall, the long runway glittering beneath the reflection of crystal chandeliers. Designers, models, assistants, and media crews rushed about like an organized storm. Cameras clicked. Laughter and nerves mingled in the air. Everything screamed glamour and chaos.
But amidst the frenzy, one person looked distinctly unlike his usual self — Aiden Ashford.
He stood near the backstage entrance, his usually sharp eyes slightly dulled by fatigue. The crisp suit he wore couldn't hide the exhaustion written on his face. His tie was perfectly knotted but his gaze kept wandering, unfocused, lost in thought.
He hadn't slept.
Not even for an hour.
All night, his mind had replayed the conversation on the rooftop.
"You were the one who doubted me."
"I came back to fix the mess. And now that it's almost done, I'll take my leave."
He had known Olivia meant every word. She wasn't the type to bluff or use emotions as leverage. If she said she would leave, she would — no hesitation, no second thoughts.
That truth unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.
He glanced across the venue where Olivia stood, clipboard in hand, directing a group of designers and technicians. Even in the chaos, she looked calm, collected — radiant. Her sharp eyes moved quickly, catching every mistake before it could bloom into a disaster.
When someone's hand trembled adjusting a light fixture, she stepped in, offered a quick suggestion, and the problem vanished. Watching her work now, Aiden couldn't shake the thought that she belonged here — in charge, confident, vibrant.
Maybe he was selfish, but he didn't want to see her walk away from it all.
"Sir?" Claire's voice pulled him from his thoughts. She stood beside him, tablet in hand, her eyes full of concern. "You should probably sit for a bit before the press briefing. You look… tired."
"I'm fine," Aiden replied automatically.
Meanwhile, Olivia had no idea what kind of storm she'd left brewing inside Aiden's head.
Her focus was entirely on ensuring nothing went wrong.
"Check the third spotlight — it's still flickering," she told one of the crew members, tapping her pen against her clipboard. "If it's not fixed in the next ten minutes, we'll remove it from the main lighting grid. I don't want it malfunctioning during the show."
The man nodded nervously and hurried away.
Grace soon joined her, showing her a list of reporters who would attend the opening ceremony. "They've all arrived. The main press briefing will start in about fifteen minutes."
"Good," Olivia said. "Let's go check the models' line-up once more."
They walked backstage where the models were getting ready. Rows of mirrors reflected faces being dusted with powder, hairpins flying, the scent of perfume and fabric dye mixing in the air. Olivia checked the names and designs, making sure the right models were matched with the correct outfits.
The designers stood nearby, nervous but proud. They had worked day and night to bring these clothes to life — especially after the disaster weeks ago when their designs were stolen. Now, every piece had been reimagined, refined, and elevated. Olivia had pushed them hard, but they had delivered beautifully.
"You've done well," Olivia told them. "This lineup is strong. Remember, confidence is part of the design. If you don't believe in it, no one will."
They smiled, her words steadying them.
When Aiden stepped onto the stage to greet the press, flashes of light from cameras momentarily blinded him. But he spoke clearly, thanking the partners, the designers, and the entire Ashford team for their effort. His gaze, however, kept finding its way toward Olivia — standing quietly to the side, clipboard pressed to her chest, watching everything with her sharp, cool eyes.
He realized something then.
Even surrounded by hundreds of people, his focus always narrowed down to her.
When he ended his short speech, Olivia joined him near the runway entrance to discuss the show flow.
"The first segment starts with the winter line," she said, flipping a few pages. "Then we'll shift into evening wear for the finale. The photographers will take their main shots after the third walk."
Aiden nodded absently, watching her lips move as she explained. "You've planned everything down to the second."
"That's how you make sure nothing explodes mid-show," she said dryly.
He chuckled softly — the first genuine laugh he'd had all day.
"You're… incredible at this, you know that?" he said suddenly.
She looked up at him, blinking in surprise. "That's the first time you've said something like that."
"Well, it's true."
Her lips curved in a faint smile. "Careful, Aiden. If you start complimenting me too much, people might think you've been replaced by a kind twin."
"Maybe I have," he said, smiling back.
The moment lingered — brief but warm — before the coordinator called them over to take their seats. The lights dimmed. Music swelled. The first model stepped onto the runway, and the show began.
The event unfolded flawlessly.
Every outfit glided across the stage like a moving masterpiece. The press whispered praises, the audience gasped, and the photographers clicked endlessly. Olivia could finally breathe. Every ounce of pressure she'd been carrying for weeks slowly began to ease.
But Aiden?
He couldn't relax.
He watched her every time she moved — the way her eyes lit up with pride when something went right, the way she smiled faintly when the crowd applauded. For the first time in a long while, he realized how much her presence had changed the company… and him.
When the final applause erupted, and the models took their bow, Aiden stood up along with the rest of the audience. He clapped, but his eyes never left Olivia. She looked relieved yet oddly distant — like someone already halfway out the door.
After the event, the team gathered backstage to celebrate. Everyone cheered, laughing and hugging. Grace handed Olivia a bottle of water.
"You did it," she said, smiling widely. "We did it."
Olivia nodded, her lips curving. "Yeah. We did."
"Come on," Grace said. "They're organizing dinner for the team tomorrow to celebrate. You'll come, right?"
Olivia hesitated. "We'll see."
Grace tilted her head. "You're not planning to vanish right after this, are you?"
Olivia smiled but didn't answer.
Later that night, when the crowd had thinned and most people had gone home, Aiden found Olivia standing near the empty runway, alone. The hall was quiet now, the echo of applause long gone.
He walked toward her slowly. "You should go home. It's late."
She turned, her expression calm. "I was just… taking one last look."
"At the runway?"
"At the work," she said softly. "At everything we've built these past months."
Aiden studied her face. "You sound like someone saying goodbye."
Olivia smiled faintly. "Maybe I am."
He took a breath. "You really meant what you said on the rooftop, didn't you? About leaving."
"I did." Her tone was gentle, but final. "The project's over now. My part is done."
"And what about your place here?" he asked quietly. "You fit here better than anyone else."
She shook her head, eyes glinting under the soft stage lights. "I fit the project. That's all. You'll manage fine without me."
Aiden's throat tightened. He wanted to argue, to tell her that she was wrong — that the company wouldn't be the same without her — that he wouldn't be the same. But he couldn't bring himself to say it.
Instead, he said quietly, "You're still angry I doubted you."
"I was," Olivia admitted. "But not anymore. You apologized, and I accepted it. Still… that doesn't mean I'll stay."
Aiden exhaled slowly, looking down for a moment before meeting her gaze again. "Then at least let me say thank you. For everything."
She smiled — small but genuine. "You already did. Every time you listened. Every time you changed. That was thanks enough."
He wanted to say more, but she turned then, gathering her bag and walking toward the exit.
Her heels clicked softly against the marble, fading with each step.
Aiden stood still, surrounded by the empty hall, the afterglow of success dimming under the weight of quiet loss.
Fashion Week had been a triumph.
But to him, it felt strangely like the beginning of something ending.