Chapter 158


    “Look, I already told you to stay away from me. There is no need toe over here and touch any of


    these fucking dresses at any time. Now go over there and deal with your own shit before I seriously


    snap and you meet a side to me I’ve been keeping under wraps this year. I will fuck you up and you


    won’t like it.” I snap at Melissa, the mousy brown-haired devil’s side kick to Olivia’s crew, as she once


    again makes a y at eating her greasy food beside my hanging rail of dresses.


    We are backstage to where we’re having our show and setting up for tomorrow. Hours ticking down,


    prepping all this, and getting everything set out, with shoes, essories and all the sketches of how


    the models are to be styled in hair and makeup is being pinned to each garment. I ran out of garment


    bags mid-way through my collection, even though I bought enough of them and know for a fact they


    have been stolen by some bitch or another.


    “Keep your hair on… Like you could anyway.” Melissa sneers at me in that toffee-nosed English ent


    of hers and I re harder, death stare at its finest.


    “My boyfriend is a pro-martial arts fighter who has spent two years teaching me how to disable full


    grown men with only one swift move. Do you really want to test out if he has done a good job?” I raise


    my brows haughtily, inwardly smug as her face pales and she high tails it away from me at speed. I


    guess she saw the genuine intent in my threat and is finally taking a fucking hint. They have been


    driving me mad all day and I just want to get home and get ready for Arrying in on his flight. I


    haven’t heard from him all day, not sincest night and I’m slightly concerned that he hasn’t even told


    me what time he’s getting in. This is so unlike him.


    “Sophie? … Make sure your order of outfits is left with the rail, so the stylists know who’s going out first


    and have your list of models and which outfits they are wearing to hand. I also need a copy for the


    commentator.” Sadie Brunee, our stand in tutor while ude is absent is behind me, and I turn with a


    smile before handing her the papers from the little table beside me. I’m crazily uptight, everything


    building up all week until I’m at momentous levels of anxious and nervy as hell. I’m like a rubber band


    that is stretched so taut that a tiny breeze can be my undoing and snap my tension.


    “There you go.” I smile back, tight lipped, and fake… I don’t really know her and from what I have


    known of her for the brief times she has run our ss, is that she is cold, indifferent, and professionally


    aloof, always. She won’t care if I’m falling apart right now, she only cares that the show runs smoothly


    and makes her look good.


    Tomorrow feels like it’s going to be the death of me. I am wrought and strung out with nerves and I


    need Arry to call or text or just be there when I get home before I self-implode. I’m finding it harder as


    this show looms up to get a grip on my emotions and this is making me crazy. I have no way to self-


    calm or release this anxiety and my mind is like a chaotic warzone with all I have going on inside it.


    “Good, good. Well break a leg tomorrow. Cannot wait to see all the students hard work pay off. Good


    luck.” She wanders off without waiting on a response and I sag against my rail for a moment, resting


    my forehead against the cold bar of the end stand. I feel sick, terrified and it’s only exhausting me. I


    need to finish my prep and go home to sink into a bubble bath, hopefully beside my Carrero if he’s


    home, and assure myself that I have done all that I can to ensure this goes well.


    ***


    Getting into the apartment I’m dead on my feet andter than normal. The walk home to clear my head


    only made me even more shattered even though it’s only a couple of streets away. I should have let my


    driver collect me. My full body is deted and exhausted and practically unable to keep me upright.


    I was on the go, nonstop all day, and finally have everything set to flow smoothly with my slot in the


    show. Music handed to the sound man,mentator has my notes and all the dresses lined up in


    order with pinned instructions, model names and sequence alongside all the extras, makeup looks and


    hair style images too. I’ve worked my ass off to pull this together on my own and proud that really, there


    is nothing else I can do now except show up and make my brief appearance on the cat walk at the end


    of my slot, to show the world who I am.


    My work is done, and now I have to wait on the reaction of the attending audience. All notably


    important people in the fashion world; bloggers, fashion mag columnists, you name it. This show is


    being filmed, reported, and critiqued to death and that in itself is making me sick with nerves. I haven’t


    been able to shift the queasiness for days.


    The apartment smells of food and my spirits rise as I hightail it to the kitchen in hopes of my sexy


    hobby chef making us dinner, but it’s Jta standing by the stove and smiles a greeting as she spots


    me.


    “Hey, no Arry?” I ask her, looking around in case he is here and maybe gone to bed for a nap. He can


    never sleep on a flight and it always makes him so tireding back.


    “Non, Mademoiselle, he has not arrived.” She smiles again, and I pat her this time, on her shoulder as I


    wander back through to the open lounge and stare out the huge bay windows onto the building’s


    opposite. It’s overcast and grey, raining like it has been for weeks and I hope to god the weather hasn’t


    dyed the flight. It happens sometimes, especially in this part of the world and its dreadful seasons.


    I pull out my cell to check, but there’s still nothing at all, no texts and no calls. I try calling him, but it


    goes straight to his voicemail and I hang up dejectedly. It could mean he’s still on a ne and I should


    have my bath and forget about it until hees home. My gut aches a little with the deep insecurity


    I’ve been feelingtely and push it down. I’m being dumb. Arry has beenter than nned a million


    times due to flight hold ups. I should just leave him be.


    ***


    Sitting drying my hair after an hour-long soak in the tub I check my cell again. it’s past seven pm and


    he promised he would be here long before bed. I still haven’t heard anything and now I really am


    starting to get antsy. Sure, he hase in through the night a million times, but he always calls, or


    texts and I’m starting to get real fear that something has happened to him. I find myself immediately


    googling news channels for any word of lost or crashed nes, even though I know I’m being dumb.


    Fuck sakes.


    Almost as if by will power alone, my cell begins vibrating in my hand as his name and face appears on


    screen, and I almost cry with relief. Agony abated with a genuine ‘oh my god’ moment of warmth as it


    washes over me instead.


    “Arry? Where are you?” I gush as soon as I answer, so relieved he’s finally called me, a hot liquid


    running through my body, making me lightheaded with euphoric relief.


    “Sophs…look… Umm” The way he says my name, softly, a hint of trepidation and sounding very non-


    confident, unlike normal Arry, makes my heart drop into my stomach as a little niggling fear eats me up


    inside. I hear him swallow as he hesitates loudly.


    “Where are you?” I repeat sternly, this time both anxiety and anger rising side by side as the realization


    that I can hear the usual hum drum of his office in the background and does not sound at all like an


    airport.


    “Baby… I got held up, all day. I couldn’t make my flight but…”


    “You fucking promised me, Arry.” I snap before he has time to finish answering, temper letting lose with


    the build-up of emotion and frustration from the past week and I sound exactly like a crazed psycho.


    Têxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    “I know, it’s just…” he tries again, but I explode. MY fraught emotions finally snapping my stic band.


    “Don’t you fucking dare…Go get on a flight, right NOW! … RIGHT NOW!” I let loose hysterically, all


    emotions spewing out like a volcano, tears stinging and flowing down my face, not caring if Jta can


    hear me. My heart is being wrenched out of my chest by my dickhead boyfriend letting me down on the


    most important day of my year and I suddenly cannot breathe.


    My ENTIRE fucking year!!


    There are no words for the level of hysterics hitting me full force or the gut-wrenching betrayal I’m


    feeling. I gasp for air as the darkness of an impending panic attack starts and I shove my head down


    between my knees to stop it developing, ramming my cell against my ear.


    “Sophs?”


    “Don’t fucking, Sophs, me… I don’t wantme excuses or bullshit. I just want you to go get on a fucking


    ne and be here, like you promised me. You promised me, Arrick!” I break, my voice croaking and


    start full on sobbing, barely able to take in anything but the sound of my own blood rushing through my


    ears. If he gets a flight soon, he can still get here before my show, in the early hours of the morning. He


    has toe; he has to be here with me. He told me he would.


    He has to.


    “The next flight is tomorrow morning.” He states it somberly, almost inaudibly, like he too understands


    that this means he won’t get here in time at all. Ipletely break.


    “I hate you.” I blurt out through a mass of tears, hang up on him and sob my heart out, crushed with the


    realization that the one person I’ve been clinging to all year, my one sanity in this shitty lonely French


    existence is not going to be there when I need him. I ignore my cell ringing again and throw it on the


    bed, unable to talk to him, unable to do anything but cry, sob and retch at how fast I’ve fallen apart. I


    roll onto my side and curl into the fetal position as wracking pain overtakes and I struggle to inte my


    lungs.


    He has no clue to how deep a pain this is, how far he’s cut. This show sums up two years of blood


    sweat and tears, enduring a year of nasty bitches trying to w me down and destroy me. A lonely


    existence of being alone most of the time, while he flew back and forth. I need him at my show! I need


    his support, his presence. I need him to not let me down in this. I need his strength and presence to


    keep me sane.


    I wait a long time, until I calm down the frantic sobbing and hysterics before I reach for my cell again;


    he just keeps re-calling every time it stops, repeatedly, frantically, and I stare at him on screen, another


    stab at my heart wounding me. Wiping my face on my sleeve to gain control, sniffing back the sobs


    before I pull myself upright slowly and finally answer it.


    “What?” I answer brokenly, voice croaking through my quiet tears and hating on him with a passion.


    Deste that my rock has abandoned me. It’s been a very long time since Arry made me feel this way


    about him and I hate that he still has this ability. That no matter how much I love him; he can screw me


    up with something so small.


    “I’m sorry, baby. I fucked this up… I didn’t know the meeting was going to run like it did and I couldn’t


    get out. We were signing so many legal contracts today, we haven’t left that room in twelve hours,


    Sophs. I can be on the next flight in the morning.” His voice is strained, and I can tell by the huskiness


    that he’s emotional too, but I don’t care.


    “So, getting on a flight tomorrow for what? The show is in the morning, I’m on before noon…You’ll still


    miss it anyway. What’s the point in rushing to get on a flight then?” I keep crying, keep disliking him


    with a passion. Wounded, betrayed, and let down. Spitting at him with so much anger bubbling inside


    of me and a body so heavy I can’t even hold my head up properly.


    “Technically I can’t leave tomorrow either, we aren’t done here, but I was going toe home and see


    you beforeing back again. I had a massive fight with my dad over this, Sophs… I don’t know what


    else to do. Amanda didn’t tell me the next flight wasn’t until tomorrow until I finally came out of the


    conference room. I just figured she would have gotten me a flight for tonight and I would still be there.


    She’s checked every airline. There’s not a single France bound flight tonight.” He’s trying to appease


    me, but his words are falling on deaf ears. All I can hear is h h, noting back, h h,


    Amanda, h h. I hate him so much in this right now I can’t even begin to formte anything but


    angry responses.


    “What’s the point?” I blurt out numbly.


    “Because I told you I would, and I want to see you.” He sounds remorseful, maybe he really is, but I’m


    beyond caring. I’m heartbroken.


    “Forget it… Don’te home. I don’t want you to… I don’t want to see you, especially not for some fly


    by dutiful half assed apology that fixes nothing… Go fuck yourself and leave me alone.” I hang up


    again, this time changing my cell to flight mode, so it can get zero calls or texts and throw it on the bed


    behind me, knowing fine well he won’t be able to reach me now. Raging, broken hearted and now


    facing a long emotional night of no sleep for my big day, alone. In one call everything feels destroyed


    and now instead of looking forward to my night with him, I’m hating his very soul and facing the longest


    night of anxiety, fear, and nerves all on my fucking own.


    Thank you very fucking much, Arrick.


    Could this city get any worse?