Chapter 49 Paris Fashion Week Preparation
Preparing for Paris Fashion Week consumes the whole lot.
The collaboration line with Isabelle will debut there. Pressure is so much. Stakes excessive.
Zephyra pushes herself relentlessly.
Designing. Dealing with the program. Jogging the business. Preserving her marriage.
Eighteen-hour days. Meetings that refuse to end. Consistent choices.
She's doing a whole lot but refuses to relent.
I can't stop. Everything matters too much.
Kairo watches with growing concern.
"You want to rest." He says gently. "You are stressed out."
"I am just fine." She lies again. "Simply busy."
However, she's not fine. Exhaustion crushing. Nausea consistent.
Her body is screaming for rest. Her thoughts refuse to concentrate.
Design assessment meeting. The very last pieces for the Paris show.
Zephyra provides modifications. Guiding the group through changes.
"This neckline needs to drop two inches." She factors. "And the hem—"
The room tilts.
Colors blur. Sounds fade. Darkness creeping at the rims.
She grabs the table. Steadies herself. Blinks tough.
Every person stares. Worried. Alarmed.
"I am fine." She forces a grin. "I just skipped breakfast."
Percy moves to her side. "Zee. sit down."
"I am great." She repeats. More stronger. "Let us continue."
However, Kairo's face is white. Worried. Scared.
The meeting concludes quickly. All the people dispersed nervously.
Kairo corners her in her workplace.
"Medical doctor." He says firmly. "You are going today. Now."
"After Fashion Week." She brushes past him. "I can't afford to be distracted now."
"Zephyra—"
"Kairo." She turns. Voice steel. "I know my body. I am just exhausted. After Paris, I will rest."
He wants to argue. She sees it in his eyes.
However he respects her autonomy. Does not push.
Just watches. Intently. Continuously.
That afternoon, Percy pulls Kairo apart.
They are having a private conversation. Worried voices.
"Elara thinks she might be pregnant." Percy says quietly.
Kairo's heart stops. "What?"
"The exhaustion. The fainting. The nausea." Percy lists. "Traditional symptoms."
Hope surges. Then worry. Then uncertainty.
A child. Their child. Growing inside of her.
Right earlier than the biggest competition of her life.
"Does Zee understand?" He asks.
"I do not know." Percy admits. "However, if she does, she's not saying."
Kairo's mind races. Should he confront her? Wait? Allow her to come to him?
He decides to wait. Trust her. Let her inform him when she is ready.
That night, he holds her differently.
More cautiously than typical. Shielding. Smooth.
His hand rests on her belly. Barely touching it.
Whatever happens." He whispers towards her hair. "Whatever you want. I am right here. With you always."
Her heart melts. Grateful. Relieved.
"I know." Her voice breaks. "You are my anchor. I really love you."
The words still matter. Even though they have said them a thousand times.
Maybe more than ever.
He kisses her forehead. Gentle. Reverent.
"I love you more." He whispers. "So much."
They hold each other in the dark. Unspoken truths striking between them.
Paris Fashion Week arrives too quickly.
They fly to France. Morale is high no matter Zephyra's exhaustion.
The city buzzes with anticipation. Designers everywhere. Media swarming.
The collaboration declaration is the talk of the industry.
Lionel-Castellane collaboration. Historical partnership. Exceptional alliance.
Their hotel suite overlooks the Seine. Romantic. Beautiful. Perfect.
However Zephyra slightly notices. She is focused on work. Only work.
Rehearsals. Fittings. Ultimate-minute changes. Press interviews.
No time for relaxation. No time to think. No time to feel.
Kairo remains close. Shadow. Watchful. Concerned.
Starting night arrives.
The venue is jam packed. Every seat was stuffed. Standing room only. Fashion elite. Industry legends. Global press.
Each person who matters is right here.
Backstage is managed chaos.
Models being dressed. Hair and make-up rushing. Designers anywhere.
Zephyra oversees the whole thing. Checking for every information .Solving issues. Perfecting.
Then nausea hits. Tough. Unexpectedly. Overwhelming.
She rushes to the bathroom. Barely makes it.
Vomits violently. Body heaving. Tears streaming.
While it stops, she slumps towards the wall.
Exhausted. Shaking. Depressing.
The toilet door opens. Isabelle enters.
"Zephyra?" Her voice is involved. "Are you very well?"
"Great." Zephyra wipes her mouth. "simply nerves."
Isabelle examines her. Looking at her eyes. Experienced gaze.
She kneels beside Zephyra. Maternal. Understanding.
"You are pregnant, aren't you?" She says lightly.
Zephyra freezes. Caught. Uncovered.
"I... I do not know." The lie crumbles. "Maybe?"
Isabelle's expression softens. Sympathetic.
"I have had three children." She says softly. "I know the signs and symptoms."
Zephyra's eyes fill with tears. The secret is too heavy to hold alone.
"I have not confirmed it." She whispers. "But I suppose so. Sure."
"Does Kairo know?" Isabelle asks.
"No." fresh tears spill. "I have not told him anything."
Isabelle enables her stand. Steadies her.
"You should inform him." She says firmly. "Tonight."
"But the show—"
"The show will be fine." Isabelle interrupts. "This matters more."
Zephyra nods. Knowing she's right.
They go back to behind the scenes chaos. Five minutes to showtime.
Kairo sees them. Rushes over.
"You okay?" His palms cup her face.
"I'm ok." She nods. "I promise. We'll talk after the show."
He searches her eyes. Sees something there.
"Okay." He kisses her brow. "After the show."
The music begins. Models line up. Lights dim.
The power shifts. Electric. Anticipation building. Records about to be made.
And as the first model walks putting on their collaboration piec
e, Zephyra's hand instinctively moves to her stomach, shielding a secret that will in a good way change everything, wondering how she'll find the words to inform Kairo that in seven months, they will be three?