I didn't plan to fall in love with myself again.
Not really.
But something shifted that morning I stepped into that lab.
It smelled like rosewater, citrus peels, and sharp sterilized metal. Clean, Bright, Like a place where things begin.
Simone looked the same, wild curls, oversized glasses, a permanent coffee in her hand. She waved me in like I wasn't married to one of the most famous men in the world. Like I was just… Leah.
"Let's make something dangerous," she said with a grin.
I laughed. And for the first time in weeks, it was real.
We spent hours testing sample textures. Arguing about formulations. Taking notes, tweaking scents, testing again.
There was something intoxicating about the process, no glam squad, no cameras, no stylists fussing over my angles.
Just women. Creating.
I ran my fingers over a silky moisturizer we called Phase One. Fast-absorbing, Dewy without being greasy, Smelled like a walk through a forest after rain.
It wasn't perfect, but it was promising.
"God," I whispered. "This could work."
Simone looked up. "It will work."
And in that moment, I believed her.
Not because she was kind.
But because, deep down, I was beginning to remember the version of me that never needed public validation to know her worth.
Later that night, Aiden and I attended a charity gala downtown.
I wore an emerald green satin dress. Not something the stylists pulled. Something I chose.
It cinched at the waist and made my eyes look like bottled envy.
Cameras flashed as soon as we stepped out of the car.
"Aiden! Aiden! Over here!"
"Leah, are you and Nova speaking again?"
"What do you think of her upcoming album?"
Same noise. Same nonsense.
But for once, it didn't stick to my skin.
I smiled softly. Posed. Let them take their photos.
Because I knew what they didn't:
While they chased recycled drama, I was building something original.
Inside the ballroom, I floated.
I'd spent so long blending in, the polished accessory to Aiden's fame. Smiling on cue, Saying little, Never taking up too much space.
But tonight… I started to stretch.
I mingled. I pitched Monroe Skin to a venture capitalist's wife, a well-known fashion editor, and a beauty influencer I used to model beside in Milan.
They all leaned in when I spoke.
Their eyes lit up when I described the serum Simone and I were formulating, anti-inflammatory, pregnancy-safe, made for women who want real skin care without the fifty-step beauty routine.
"We want elegance," I told them. "Not overwhelm."
They nodded like they'd been waiting for someone to say it.
I left that gala with four business cards and a mind buzzing louder than any red carpet applause.
Back home, I took off my makeup slowly.
Not because I was tired.
But because I was falling in love with the way I looked after the cameras were gone.
My bare face, Slight under-eye shadows, That new glow I hadn't seen in months.
Confidence. Not foundation.
I snapped a photo, No filter, No edits.
Posted it on my private Instagram account I hadn't touched in over a year.
Captioned it:
"The woman behind the flash. She's coming back."
No hashtags. No tags.
But in an hour, it had 370 likes. All from old modeling friends, makeup artists, stylists, and industry girls who knew.
I saw comments like:
"That skin."
"She's back."
"Rooting for you always."
And my favorite:
"The glow-up no one's ready for."
The next morning, Nova posted another photo, this time in a sheer black dress, tears down her cheeks, captioned:
"Some wounds don't heal. They just harden."
It got over 2 million likes.
The blogs called her brave. A poet in pain.
But for the first time, I didn't flinch.
I closed the app and opened my pitch deck instead.
In the following weeks, I carved out little pockets of time between fittings, dinners, and interviews.
I worked on formulas, Sent samples to stylists I trusted. Got Simone to mail early test kits to three friends who gave me honest, brutal feedback.
One of them texted me at 2 a.m.:
"Leah, I swear I've never used a product that made me feel so… expensive. Put me on your investor list. I'm dead serious."
I read that text five times.
It felt like a secret handshake between who I used to be and who I was becoming.
Aiden noticed.
Not immediately.
But he started saying things like:
"Been in a good mood lately."
Or, "You have been glowing these days, what's your secret?"
I would just smile and say, "Sleep,Water, Boundaries."
He laughed, he thought I was joking.
I wasn't.
Because I had stopped waiting for the world to hand me a crown.
I was crafting one in private.
And soon, they wouldn't just know me as "Aiden Cruz's wife."
They'd know me as Leah Monroe.
The empire.
Not the accessory.