Selene's POV
The high of the runway still clung to my skin like glitter. My heels had barely kissed the marble of the backstage hallway before I was wrapped in Ayra's embrace, both of us half-laughing, half-crying. We did it.
But the biggest surprise was still waiting.
As we returned home, the sky dusted with twilight, Antonio squeezed my hand while Eliot opened the door for Ayra. We stepped inside expecting quiet and rest—only to be met with a burst of confetti and the warm chorus of "Congratulations!"
I froze mid-step.
Our families stood there, beaming like stars—Mom and Dad, Devina and Mr. Reyes, Aunt Melinda, Everett and Elise—all dressed with effort and care, as if this was more than just a gathering. It was. A celebration of us.
The living room had been transformed. Lights were strung around the ceiling beams like tiny constellations. A table brimmed with flowers, candles, and the most delicious spread of dishes from each of our favorite cuisines—handpicked, no doubt, by our mothers. Mira and Amara were already bouncing toward us with excitement, Mira holding two hand-painted signs that read: Vogue Queens and Creative Stars.
"Mira made those," Amara whispered proudly as she hugged me.
I looked around—Ayra had tears in her eyes again, Eliot holding her gently at the waist, whispering something that made her blush.
"Come," Devina said, her voice soft but radiant. "You four have given us something to celebrate—not just success, but courage and dreams taking form."
My dad raised a toast, voice thick with emotion. "To the artists, the dreamers, the girls who never stopped sketching, designing, dancing, and daring."
Then Everett, Eliot's mom, stepped forward, placing her hands on both Ayra and Selene's shoulders. "You've brought beauty into the world—not just in what you wear or create, but in who you are."
As we sat down—Selene nestled between Antonio and her mom, Ayra leaning into Eliot—it felt like every piece had fallen into place. Laughter echoed, stories flowed, and even in this warmth, our dreams flickered like lanterns waiting to rise higher still.
Tonight, we weren't just daughters, friends, or lovers. We were visionaries—and we were home.
The warmth in the living room was more than just the golden hue of the fairy lights strung across the ceiling—it was alive in the voices, in the smiles, in every shared glance and affectionate pat on the back. The celebration continued, laughter echoing off the walls, as plates were filled and refilled.
"You four have become the pride of our family," my mom said, her eyes glistening as she looked at Ayra and me.
"And of this city, I'd say," Everett added with a soft chuckle, dabbing her eyes. "Mira and Amara, your performance was breathtaking. The way music and dance flowed—it was like watching a conversation without words."
Ayra's cheeks flushed with pride as she squeezed Mira's hand.
"And Ayra," Devina continued, "your designs are getting more refined by the day. The blend of elegance and confidence—who would've thought your heart could sew so beautifully?"
Ayra smiled with a twinkle in her eyes. "I learned from the best… life."
Antonio stood behind me with his arms loosely wrapped around my waist, occasionally pressing a soft kiss to my temple. I leaned into his steady presence.
"And let's not forget Selene," my dad added with a proud nod. "Walking Vogue like she belonged there… which she did. A natural."
I blushed. Compliments always made me shy, but tonight they hit deeper.
Everett looked around with a glint of playful pride. "You know, watching all of you grow has been the most rewarding thing. And now, seeing you all succeed like this—" she paused, smiling, "—it's magic."
After the toasts and sweet talks, when the room mellowed into soft conversation and gentle music, Ayra tugged at my hand. "Come on. Balcony?"
Antonio nodded, Eliot behind him already heading for the glass doors. The night air was cool against our skin, the stars stretching wide above Paris. The soft hum of traffic below was distant, nearly forgotten.
We all leaned against the railing, side by side, soaking in the peace.
"It's strange," I whispered. "We used to sit out here and dream, Ayra. Just... wonder what it would be like. And now—"
"Now you're the face of Vogue," she smiled, but I saw the gleam in her eyes.
"And you're the soul behind the designs," I replied quietly.
There was a long silence, just the breeze weaving through us. I stared up at the sky and blinked. "I'm scared sometimes. That this might all vanish. That I'll wake up, and none of this will be real."
Ayra's hand trembled slightly beside mine. She looked away, her voice barely above a whisper, "I think about that too."
Eliot stepped beside her then, wrapping her in a comforting hug. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. His arms did.
I turned, slightly trembling myself.
Antonio didn't hesitate.
He cupped my cheeks, eyes boring into mine, and without a word, pulled me into a kiss—slow, deep, and brimming with everything I was too scared to say out loud. The kind of kiss that said, You're not alone. You'll never be alone again.
When we broke apart, slightly breathless, Ayra's wide eyes met mine—then she laughed softly, cheeks red.
"I feel like I just watched a movie scene."
Eliot chuckled. "Romantic and dramatic. Very you two."
I wiped at my eyes and leaned my head on Antonio's shoulder. "Well, if life's giving us a love story, I'm not cutting any scenes short."
And there, under the starlight with the people who knew me best, I felt whole.