Chapter 14
Rosalyn’s POV
The morning felt heavy with tension as I climbed the stairs to the CEO of Verona Vogue, Mrs. Veronica‘ s office. It was rare to be summoned by her, and everyone knew what it usually meant–either a query or a firing. My heart thudded with anxiety, my palms clammy as I adjusted my blazer and tried to steady my breathing.
As I pushed open the heavy mahogany door, Mrs. Veronica‘ s stern expression caught me off guard. But then, her face softened into an unexpected smile. For a moment, I thought I had walked into someone else’s meeting.
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“Good morning, Rosalyn,” she greeted, her voice unusually warm. “Have a seat.”
I obeyed, feeling out of place.
“You’ve been with us for two years now, she began, int locking her fingers. “And in that short time, you‘ ve proven yourself indispensable. Mrs. Maya has spoken highly of you, and even Chris believes you‘ re the kind of staff this company has lacked for a decade.
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I blinked, stunned. Chris, the COO, rarely complimented anyone.
“I… I’m grateful for the kind words, ma‘ am,” I managed, my voice barely
audible.
She leaned forward slightly. “Tell me,
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Rosalyn, what are your ambitions? What vision do you have for your future in fashion?”
I hesitated, trying to organize my thoughts.
“I’ve always been passionate about fashion as a form of expression. I dream of creating designs that are not only innovative but also inclusive, something that speaks to everyone regardless of their background or body type.”
Her lips curled into an approving smile.
“Impressive. It’s rare to find someone so grounded and ambitious. I’m proud to have you on my team.”
My heart swelled with pride.
“And now,” she continued, “it’s time to
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test your capabilities on a bigger stage. I’m
appointing you to lead Verona Vogue‘ s fashion week show in Paris.”
I gasped. “Paris?”
“Yes. I’m also promoting you to Senior Creative Director. It’s a position that can define your career.”
I sat there, stunned, barely able to process
her words.
“You‘ ll work closely with your supervisor, Mrs. Raya to prepare for the event. We‘ 11 also likely transfer you to our headquarters in Paris for continuity.”
Leaving California? The thought hit me hard. As much as the opportunity thrilled me, my mind drifted to Niklaus. Seven years of
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memories clung to me like a shadow I
couldn’t shake.
Noticing my hesitation, Mrs. Veronica softened her tone. “Take a day to think about it. But I need your decision by tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” I said, standing. “I’ll let you know by then.”
As I left her office, excitement warred with sadness. That evening, my thoughts were consumed by the idea of leaving, of starting fresh, and of Niklaus.
The next day, as I sat on my bed, my phone buzzed with a reminder from Mrs. Raya. {Are you really going to give up on this
opportunity?}
Her words struck a chord. No. I had to think
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about myself now. It had been months since Niklaus and I ended things. He hadn‘ t once tried to reach out.
I dialed Mrs. Veronica‘ s number, my hands trembling slightly.
“Rosalyn,” she answered briskly.
“Good morning, ma‘ am. I’ve decided to accept the position.”
Her voice brightened. “Wonderful. Come by the office on Monday to finalize everything. And if you need a few days to wrap things up, let me know.”
“Thank you. I’d like five days to visit my parents before heading to Paris.”
“Granted. Congratulations, Rosalyn. You‘ ve
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earned this.‘
Later that evening, I called my mother.
“Rosalyn, my darling!” she exclaimed.
“Mom, I have some news. I’m moving to
Paris for work.
She gasped. “Paris? Oh, honey, that’s incredible! When are you leaving?”
“In a week. I’ll visit you and Dad in Texas before I go.”
She paused, her voice softening. “Your father is doing better, you know. Thanks to Niklaus, we got him the best medical care.”
I swallowed hard, bracing myself.
“You know, we’re sorry we couldn’t
attend
your wedding. Your father was too sick
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then. But, Rosalyn… we haven’t heard from Niklaus in a while. What’s going on?”
I changed the subject quickly, not wanting to explain over the phone. “I’ll tell you when I see you, Mom.”
On Monday, I finalized everything with Mrs. Veronica. The paperwork, the promotion, and the plans for Paris all fell into place. The next day, I went shopping for gifts for my parents.
As I browsed through the racks, I spotted Melanie. My chest tightened. Of all people, why her?
“Well, well,” she drawled, sauntering over with a smirk. “Rosalyn. Fancy meeting you here.”
I forced a neutral expression. “Melanie.”
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Her gaze swept over me with thinly veiled
disdain. “Doing some shopping? Leaving the city soon?”
“Yes,” I replied curtly.
“Far from son one like you,” I added
under my breath.
She laughed, clearly unfazed.
“Congratulations. It’s about time you moved on. Niklaus deserves someone who
understands him.”
I stiffened, her words cutting deeper than I
wanted to admit.
“You know,” she continued, her voice dripping with smugness, “he never forgot about me, even after all these years. He was crazy about me in highschool and now.
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I turned to face her, my eyes cold. “Good luck with him, Melanie.”
Her triumphant smile faltered as I walked away, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing my pain.
The next evening, I arrived at my parents‘ house in Texas. My father looked healthier than I’d seen him in years, and my
mother’s joy was infectious as she hugged me tightly.
“These are for you,” I said, handing them the gifts.
“Oh, Rosalyn, you shouldn’t have!” my mother exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she unwrapped the clothes.
“It’s the least I could do.‘
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As we sat down for dinner, my mother asked,
“How‘ s Niklaus doing?”
I set my fork down, taking a moment to compose myself. “Forget about him, Mom.”
She frowned. “Why? He’s a good man, Rosalyn.”
My father chimed in, his voice gentle. “We heard from Abby that the wedding was canceled. What happened?”
I looked between them, their concerned faces tugging at my heart.
“It’s for the best,” I said firmly, unwilling to delve into the details.
“But why-”
“Please, let’s not talk about him,” I
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interrupted, forcing a smile. “Everything is fine now. Let’s just enjoy dinner.”
They exchanged a glance but said no more.
As the conversation shifted, I couldn’t shake the feeling of finality settling over me. Paris was my future, and California–along with everything it held–was my past. But as much as I tried to convince myself, a small, unyielding part of me still wondered if I was truly ready to leave it all behind.
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