The morning air was thick with excitement and the faint scent of wet pavement. Mau and Lira zigzagged through the narrow city streets toward the studio, carrying a fresh batch of fabrics and sketches.
"Do you feel that?" Lira asked, bouncing on her heels. "The city's buzzing about you. They're actually buzzing. People are whispering 'Mau' in cafes, boutiques, elevators…"
Mau glanced at her with a soft smile, sketchbook tucked under her arm. "I hear it. But I also feel Sheena's glare heating the city from somewhere."
"Face-slap #3 incoming," Lira said with a dramatic sigh, spinning in place. "I can feel it already."
Aida emerged silently from the shadows, arms crossed, ever the sentinel. "Ignore the whispers for now. Focus on creation, execution, and discretion. Every step matters."
Mau nodded, heart pounding with exhilaration. She had spent months rebuilding M Designs in anonymity, and now, the city was starting to notice. Orders were flooding in. Celebrities requested bespoke fittings. The press was quietly murmuring, but her name—or rather, her pseudonym—remained cloaked.
"Watch your back," Aida added, her eyes scanning the bustling street. "Some of the whispers might be curiosity. Others… danger in silk gloves."
Mau clenched her fists, tension coiling in her chest. Somewhere out there, the mastermind who had stolen her life—Dave White—was plotting. But here, in this moment, she felt alive. Pulsating, unstoppable, unseen.