Zara
We entered the back room, and Halima stood there, her hair up in a bun, frowning as always. She was eagerly ordering the staff to prepare everything before the models arrived.
Turning to me, she exclaimed with relief.
"Zara, I'm so glad you're early. There's so much work to do on your skin." She snapped her fingers, beckoning two girls over. Judging by their appearance, they looked like beauty specialists.
My skin? What's wrong with my skin? I gingerly touched my face.
"Take Zara to room number 1. Massage and mask, manicure and pedicure, WAXING THERAPY. I want her to have the full treatment. Not a single stray hair on her body," she ordered.
Waxing? I hated that damn thing; it pulled my hair so painfully.
"Don't be a coward, Zara," Nova scolded me.
Both of them rushed toward me with professional smiles. Tall and slender, they resembled fashionistas and beauty influencers blogging on social media.
