Selene's POV
It was just another cozy evening in the Reyes living room. The fire crackled, Ayra and Mira argued over which movie to play, Amara was sketching something in her little notepad, and Antonio sat next to me, his fingers laced gently with mine.
We had all just returned from Goa—sun-tanned, glowing, still carrying grains of sand in our bags. The warmth of that celebration lingered, like honey on our tongues.
That's when Devina walked in holding her tablet, eyes wide with something between disbelief and joy.
"Selene," she said, her voice slightly shaky, "you might want to sit properly for this."
I sat up straighter, pulse quickening. Antonio raised an eyebrow. Ayra turned the TV off. Everyone sensed it.
Devina handed me the tablet, her eyes not leaving mine.
"I submitted your designs to the Emerging Designer Showcase during Paris Fashion Week," she said slowly, gauging my reaction. "I wanted to surprise you. But... they just called back."
My breath stopped.
"You've been selected."
"What?" My voice cracked into a whisper.
"You're in, Selene," she repeated, her smile growing. "And they want you to walk the runway in your own design."
The tablet nearly slipped from my hands. Everyone erupted—Ayra squealed and launched herself into a hug, Amara dropped her sketchpad in awe, Mira clapped like a kid on Christmas. Antonio just stared at me with that fierce pride in his eyes—the kind that made everything feel possible.
"Me?" I whispered, dazed. "They want... me?"
Antonio stood up, walked around the couch, and knelt in front of me. "They see what I've always seen. You don't just design dreams, Selene—you are one."
My eyes stung. I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him like my heart needed him to stay steady.
The room echoed with congratulations, joy, disbelief, and the start of a new, unexpected chapter.
And in that moment, with all their love circling around me, I believed it too.
I needed air.
Not because I was overwhelmed—but because I needed this moment to settle. After the whirlwind of celebration with Antonio's family, I stepped out onto the small balcony with my phone in hand, my heart pounding like it was trying to beat out a song.
I dialed.
"Mama?" My voice trembled with excitement.
"Sweetheart? Is everything alright?" she asked, instantly alert.
"More than alright," I laughed, and the sound felt surreal. "Mama, Papa, is Aunt Melinda with you?"
"She just walked in with groceries," my dad said in the background.
"Put me on speaker," I said, swallowing the lump in my throat.
There was a beat of static and then I heard all three of them.
"Okay," my mom said. "We're listening."
I took a breath.
"I got selected for Paris Fashion Week," I said. "They want me to showcase my designs. And they've asked me to walk the runway… as a model."
Silence.
And then—an explosion of voices.
"What?" my mom gasped, "Selene! Are you serious?"
"She did it! She did it!" Aunt Melinda squealed in the background.
"Is this some kind of joke?" Papa asked, stunned. "Our little girl is going to be on that runway?"
"It's real," I whispered, smiling through happy tears. "Devina submitted my sketches without telling me. They accepted. I start fittings and preparations soon."
I could hear the pride in their voices, even through the disbelief. My mother sniffled audibly. "You always dreamed of this. And now… it's happening. Oh, Selene."
"I'm so proud of you," Aunt Melinda chimed in, her voice thick with emotion. "From hospital shifts to haute couture—you've always had both fire and grace."
My father's voice cracked a little. "You're becoming everything we prayed for you to be. Not because of where you're walking—but because of how you got there."
In that moment, under the Parisian dusk, I stood alone on the balcony—but felt more held than ever.
And deep down, I knew this wasn't just my dream unfolding.
It was all of ours.