The studio smelled faintly of fresh fabric and polished wood, a delicate mix that somehow felt like winter itself. Racks lined the room, each holding carefully curated pieces of the winter collection. Celine walked slowly along them, her eyes scanning every detail, every stitch.
She picked up a wool coat in deep emerald green, running her fingers over the seams. The stitching was precise, the lining soft but structured, exactly as she had imagined. She lifted it onto a mannequin and adjusted the collar, stepping back to study how the light hit the fabric. Perfect.
Next, she moved to a navy velvet dress, the one with subtle silver embroidery along the neckline. Celine leaned closer, tracing the patterns with her fingertips. "The embroidery has to catch the light just right," she murmured, tilting the mannequin slightly. Satisfied, she jotted a note on her pad for minor adjustments, just a millimeter here, a fold there.
Stacy appeared with her tablet, excitement practically radiating from her. "Boss, the teaser just went live online," she said, tapping the screen. "People are already talking, tweets, blogs, Instagram stories… you're trending"
Celine leaned over, peering at the short video clip: a soft snow-dusted runway, flashes of sparkling fabrics, a glimpse of her signature detailing. She grinned, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Already?" she laughed, the sound ringing like champagne bubbles. "I love it. People are going to wake up tomorrow buzzing, and we'll be ready for them."
Stacy nodded, bouncing on her toes. "Exactly! And you're glowing, boss. Seriously, everyone's going to lose it when they see the full collection tomorrow. Chanel's team is thrilled. We're trending in Europe, Asia… even New York "
Celine twirled once, letting a flowing coat spin out around her. "Tomorrow's the big day," she said softly, savoring the thought. "But today… today, we enjoy it. This moment, this excitement, this anticipation. The world is curious. And we're ready to dazzle them with every piece that tells a story."
Stacy watched, a smile tugging at her lips. "Honestly, boss, you could stare at these racks forever and still find new things to admire."
Celine laughed softly. "Maybe I will." She stepped back, taking in the full display. The studio felt like a winter wonderland, each piece ready to step into the spotlight. For a moment, she let herself just breathe, enjoy, and marvel at what they'd created. Tomorrow the world would see it, but for now, this was her moment, quiet and perfect.
Her phone vibrated as she glanced down, thumb hovering before she opened the message.
Lunch? Nothing fancy. I figured you'll forget to eat.
She smiled, this one unavoidable.
Stacy caught it immediately. "There it is again," she said, turning slowly. "That smile. That one."
Celine exhaled, amused, and locked her phone. "He invited me to lunch."
Stacy's eyes widened in mock seriousness. "The chef invited you to lunch. Of course he did."
"It's just lunch," Celine said, reaching for a hanger and straightening a coat like it suddenly required her full attention.
"Mmhmm. And this," Stacy gestured around the studio, "is just Chanel."
Celine laughed, finally giving in. "He knows tomorrow's going to be insane. That's all. He said I'd forget to eat."
"And will you?" Stacy asked.
Celine paused, then nodded slowly. "Absolutely."
Stacy grinned. "Then you're going."
Celine smiled as she typed a quick reply.
Lunch sounds good. I'll steal an hour.
She slipped the phone away, the smile lingering as she turned back to her work.
"Alright," she said, clapping her hands lightly. "Let's finish labeling. Tomorrow comes fast."
Stacy watched her for a second longer, then shook her head. "Winter collection. Chanel. And lunch with a chef. You're really doing everything at once."
Celine smiled, calm and sure.
"For once," she said, "it all feels exactly right."
***
August POV
August stood alone in the kitchen long before the lunch hour rush. The restaurant was quiet, lights low, the kind of calm he liked before everything began to move too fast. He rolled up his sleeves, washed his hands, and stared at the ingredients laid out in front of him.
He'd noticed it the first time they ate together.
Celine never said she was picky, but she was precise. She pushed overly rich sauces aside, barely touched anything too oily, tasted before committing. She liked clean flavors. Balance. Things that made sense.
Just like her work.
He reached for fresh herbs instead of anything heavy. Lemon instead of cream. Olive oil, measured, not poured. He chose ingredients that spoke softly rather than loudly.
"Simple," he muttered to himself. "But intentional."
August started with a light starter, nothing overwhelming. Something warm, comforting, but not filling. As he worked, his movements were steady, almost meditative. This wasn't about impressing her. It was about making her feel… considered.
He paused, knife hovering mid-air.
She'd been under pressure. He could see it in the way she carried herself, focused, composed, but tired in that quiet way people get when they forget to take care of themselves.
"So you forget to eat," he said quietly, shaking his head. "Not today."
He plated carefully, adjusting placement more than once. Too crowded. Too bare. He fixed it until it felt right. Then he moved on to the main dish, something warm enough for December, light enough not to weigh her down.
No unnecessary garnish. No dramatic flair.
Just honest food.
As he wiped the counter, August checked the time and exhaled slowly. He wasn't nervous exactly, but there was a softness in his chest he hadn't felt in a while. This wasn't about romance. Not yet. It was about showing up in the only language he trusted.
Care.
He glanced at the door, then back at the plates.
"Hope you like it," he said under his breath.
The bell above the restaurant door chimed softly just as August was wiping his hands on a towel.
He looked up.eline stepped inside, coat still on, hair slightly undone like she'd rushed but refused to look rushed. Sunglasses still on indoors, because of course. Her phone was in her hand, screen dark, attention already shifting to him.
She checked her watch.
"I'm late," she said, not apologetic, just honest.
August glanced at the clock, then back at her. "Five minutes."
She smiled, slipping off her sunglasses. "Fashionably."
He raised an eyebrow. "That's not a real excuse."
She shrugged, easing out of her coat and handing it to the hostess who smiled warmly at her.
The restaurant was… quiet. She noticed it.
She glanced around as she walked in, heels clicking lightly against the floor.
"This place is… empty," she said casually, slipping into the chair he pulled out for her.
August followed her gaze. "We closed early."
She looked up at him. "Closed?"
"Private lunch," he said simply.
Her brows lifted, not impressed, curious. "You did that for me?"
"For you," he corrected, already turning toward the kitchen, "thought you would need your space as tomorrow is the D-Day you have been awaiting."
She smiled to herself.
As she sat there, she started noticing everything else.
The way the lights were dimmer than usual.
The scent, fresh herbs, citrus, something simmered gently, mixed with him.
Clean. Warm. Familiar in a way she hadn't expected.
When August returned, the scent followed him, clinging to his sleeves. Celine breathed in without realizing it, then stopped herself.
Interesting.
She watched his hands as he set the plate down, steady, confident, no wasted movement.
"Here," he said simply. "Start with this."
Celine looked at it, then up at him. "It smells… good."
He nodded, almost like a quiet reassurance. "I kept it light."
She picked up her fork and took a small bite, tasting it carefully. The flavors were clean, balanced, exactly as she liked. She glanced at him, a small smile forming.
"You noticed," she said softly.
"Noticed what?"
"That I don't like things too heavy. That I taste first."
He shrugged slightly, calm. "Makes sense. I figured you'd want to actually eat, not just nibble."
Celine took another bite, a little bigger this time, relaxing into the chair.
"This is perfect," she said simply, almost to herself. "Just right."
He nodded, "Glad you think so."
August pulled out the chair across from her and sat down, settling in comfortably. The table felt smaller suddenly, more personal, and Celine noticed without even trying.
"So…" he said, picking up his own fork, "Chanel. Excited?"
Celine blinked, then smiled, a little caught off guard. "You… saw the teaser?"
"What are you talking about?" he said, grinning just a little. "Everyone's talking about it."
Celine's cheeks flushed, a soft warmth spreading across her face. She looked down at her plate, trying not to smile. "I… I wasn't expecting anyone to see it yet," she murmured quietly.
"Well," he said, leaning back, eyes playful, "with that kind of work… you're too good to be kept hidden."
Her face heated further, and she glanced up at him briefly before looking down again. "I… I just hope they like it," she whispered.
He leaned forward slightly, corners of his mouth turning up in a gentle smile. "They will. And honestly… I already do."
Celine let out a small, almost breathless laugh, taking a careful bite of her lunch, still trying to hide the warmth spreading through her.
August took a sip of his tea, then set it down, his eyes flicking to one of the plates on the table. "You know," he said casually, leaning back slightly, "that deep burgundy coat, the one with the fur-trimmed collar? I love the style. It's… masculine and Still elegant. Really bold."
Celine blinked, then leaned forward slightly, her designer energy igniting. "Oh! That coat," she said, voice brightening. "The idea came from, well, I was inspired by the old European trench coats, but I wanted to mix it with something softer, warmer, something that would feel protective in winter. And the fur trim, subtle, but it gives a contrast. You see, it's about the weight and the movement… the lines have to tell a story without shouting."
Her hands moved as she spoke, sketching invisible patterns in the air. She leaned in, tracing a curve with her finger, explaining the texture, the tailoring, the way the light would hit the fabric. She was fully lost in her own world, eyes bright, voice smooth but intense, a spark of passion lighting every gesture.
When she finally blinked and came back to the present, she realized August was staring at her. His gaze wasn't teasing this time, it was attentive, warm, thoughtful. She froze for a moment, caught in his look.
Her cheeks flushed softly, and she leaned back, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Sorry," she said quietly, embarrassed. "I… I get carried away."
He grinned, shaking his head just slightly. "No. Don't apologize. I like it. I like how passionate you are about your work."
Celine let out a small laugh, the tension easing, but the flush remained. "You… really mean that?"
"I do," he said simply, eyes steady on her. "It's… inspiring."
For a moment, the quiet restaurant, the warmth of tea, the lingering scent of fresh food, and her own flushed excitement blended perfectly.
She picked up her fork again, still smiling shyly. "Thank you," she murmured. "I… don't often get to talk about it like this."
"And I don't often get to see it," he said softly, leaning back again, a faint, knowing grin tugging at his lips. "You're incredible at it."
Celine's fingers brushed her cup, heat still lingering in her cheeks, and she realized something: talking about her work with someone who noticed, who really saw it… was almost as satisfying as the lunch itself.