"Miss Sawyer, this design is amazing," Mira said, staring at the sketch with admiration.
"I know, right?" Leah responded with a proud smile. "What does it look like?" she teased, winking at Mira.
"Mmm… I've got it! That flower of yesterday," Mira said with excitement. "Uh, chrysanthemum flower!"
"Good girl! You're brilliant," Leah said.
"Why do I feel like you're insulting me?" Mira joked, adjusting her glasses dramatically.
Leah chuckled, shaking her head. "Silly girl."
She felt truly comfortable around Mira. Although Mira was only a year younger than her, Leah saw her as the little sister she never had. Mira stood there, unaware of the warmth Leah felt. She was of average height with a delicate frame, brown eyes, rosy cheeks, beautiful pink lips, and a pointed nose. Her long black hair was tied up in a ponytail, and her fair skin glowed under the gentle morning sun that poured through the studio windows.
Just then, a voice called from the doorway. Leah, the manager, is looking for you."
The call snapped Leah out of her thoughts.
"I'll be there in a minute," she said.
Her heart beat a little faster. Why was Mr. Ken's assistant calling her directly? She hoped she wasn't in trouble.
When she reached the manager's office, she knocked gently.
"Come in," Mr. Ken said.
"Good morning, sir," Leah greeted, stepping in.
"Good morning. Sit," he instructed.
She obeyed, her palms slightly sweaty.
"Do you know why I called you here?" he asked.
"I'm not sure," Leah replied truthfully.
Mr. Ken leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "Leah, I've seen your latest design. I'm impressed. In two weeks, the fashion competition will be held. As you know, the entire design department is counting on our team to show excellence. And I trust you won't disappoint me."
"I'll try my possible best, sir," she said.
"Good," he nodded.
Leah walked out of the office with a deep sigh of relief. She had thought the manager called her to criticize her design or that something had gone wrong. But now she felt more confident—and more determined.
"I wonder what I'll wear to the venue," she murmured to herself. "Several designers and journalists will be there. I'm going to make a dress so dazzling that I won't just slay the competition—I'll slay my entrance."
Back in the studio, she and Mira continued their discussion as they prepared some materials.
"You know," Mira began with a grin, "your design will definitely beat the last fashion design competition winner, Ms. White."
Leah looked up, amused. "You think so?"
"I know so," Mira said. "Last year, Ms. White stunned the judges with her peony-inspired gown, remember? But yours… yours has something different. It's alive. It breathes."
Leah smiled. "I remember how she walked in like a queen. Everyone was whispering her name before she even hit the runway."
"Yeah, but remember how her final stitch came loose during the catwalk? She recovered quickly, though."
"I'd rather avoid drama this year," Leah said, laughing.
They both laughed, their voices echoing slightly in the quiet room.
Before they could continue, they were interrupted by a delivery man at the door, and Mira rushed to sign for the package.
Later that evening, when Leah got home, she received a message from her mother.
"Hi sweetheart, how are you doing? How's everything going with the fashion competition preparations?"
Leah smiled warmly. She quickly dialed her mother's number.
"Hi, Mum," she said, lying back on her couch. "I'm doing great. The design is coming together really well."
"I'm glad to hear that. Do you feel confident about it?" her mother asked.
"I do. Actually, I'm sure I'll win this time," Leah said with a soft but firm voice.
There was silence for a moment, then her mother replied, "That's my girl. I always knew you would make it."
After the call, Leah sat quietly, staring at the ceiling. Her mother had always supported her—through late nights, rejections, and rough starts. She remembered how her mum used to sew dresses by hand just to afford her design school fees. Now it was Leah's turn to make her proud.
She stood up, walked to her desk, and looked at her chrysanthemum-inspired sketch again. She would give it her all. Not just for the competition—but for her mum, for Mira, and for herself.