"All you have to do is to smile and strike the runway!" my make-up artist said to me while having a touch-up on me.

One of the famous brands here in Paris invited me to walk on the runway. Narse, my make-up artist was doing my simple look while I'm still highly strung.

"B-But, I'm nervous—" I stuttered while looking at the mirror. I wish I could pose in front of it but I just raised my brow. I don't know what I'm doing right now!

"You've been doing this for how many years, Ma'am Fio?" she asked. She was now putting a simple bronze look across my eyelid.

I raised my head, adding more fierce, "3 years." I answered, "3 years of catwalks, fashion shows, flashing lights, and high heels."

"You don't need to impress the viewers and audiences. All you have to do is to be yourself. Just pose and smile, Ma'am Fio." My make-up artist calmed me down as she finalized my look. She went in front of me and held my cheeks. "I believe in you, Ma'am."

"Thank you, Narse," I mentioned her name with poise and gave her a slight smile.

With a deep breath, comfortable heels, I finally walked the runway with grace. I swayed my Spring Ready-to-wear dress. I kept my hands delicate, keeping my head straight as I turned around to the audience.

I accidentally smiled at one of the onlookers. He was wearing a black suit, and his arms were leaning to the other audience's seats. I saw that he licked his lip as I raised my brow to him and continued my walk going backstage. I know who he is... but with the lights, he was covered by it.

"What a relief!" I whispered to myself. After that major event, we had an after-party where all the sponsors, designers, bloggers, and some guests were invited. I still cannot move on from what I just did earlier! Did the cameramen take a photo of it?

"You look fantastic with your runway, Fiorella!"

"I hope you can be invited to many more fashion shows! You're awesome!"

I smiled at the models who appreciated what I've done. A waiter offered a glass of cocktail but I declined since I have a flight for tomorrow going back to the Philippines. According to my manager, an agency booked me for a magazine photoshoot! Even though I don't want to go back from there, work is work.

"Félicitations, magnifique!" A familiar guy whispered with his deep voice. He even hugged my tiny waist. Halos magkalapit na ang aming mga mukha. He smells expensive. "Great job, my love."

Being called my love is such a cliché in this field. I just saw that he was now wearing a white polo sleeve and a gold necklace surrounding his neck.

"Do you want to drink or something? Or maybe... you want to know me more?" He asked me with his dark and heavy eyes. I could sense that he has a different race because of his hair that was Achilles-gold and perfectly coiffed. His eyes were as clear as a mountain stream, and the contours of his face were in perfect proportion to one another. "Don't worry, I'll not do anything harmful."

I already wanted to sleep because of what I did earlier, but I just agreed to what he offered. Maybe I could now clear why I smiled at him, right? With that, I said farewell to my other girls and they replied with a smile.

As we both reached his hotel room, I gazed my eyes around. The swirl of his fierce cologne had them swooning in the aisles.

"Who are you, monsieur?" I asked. I addressed the monsieur as a courtesy of respect.

"I don't want any conversation, mi lady. Just have a seat and drink with me," he offered. As he opened the bottle of wine, no bubbles appeared at the top. What gentle hands he has.

I carefully took what he gave to me, "Toast!" he additionally stated. We both raised it and my sight was on the outside, looking at the beauty of the Eiffel Tower. If only he is here... if only my friend that I left is here, for sure that he will be delighted as he captured photos of Paris.

I left my small LV pouch on the table. Inside it was my phone. I left there to avoid distractions.

"You can now explain," he said with his French accent. Maybe he read what I'm thinking!

I slowly turned my sight, looking at him, "I don't want any conversation, monsieur."

"A lady is using my own card, huh?" he scoffed. I heard a call coming from him. "I'll just answer this stupid call. Drink all you want," he said before leaving me. I just drunk myself instead of explaining. Well, I don't care now! Palipad na rin naman ako ng Pilipinas. For sure that my manager can fix that!

"Fuck it! I don't want to. Leave me alone already!" I saw that he was massaging his bridge. Looks and sounds frustrated.

"What happened, monsieur?" tanong ko and I drank another shot.

"Les membres de ma famille wanted me to fucking go back to their company! La Puta!" The frustration in his voice was clear. He sat on the sofa as he looked at me, "You know, you can go back to your room."

"We can talk about your madness," I suggested while holding the wine glass, "But, what's your name? Unless you wanted me to call you monsieur."

"Monsieur irritates me. Call me Giovanni."

"Giovanni?" I asked. "So you really have French blood."

"And a high blood if you won't stop talking to me," singit niya that made my eyebrows meet.

A wine glass... after a wine glass. Binusy ko na lang 'yung self ko sa pag-inom ng wine. I don't know what I'm doing not until my sight becomes blurry.

I'm planning to get my LV pochette because I heard my phone ring. It might be my manager... or my make-up artist! I carefully walked there not until I lost my balance. Nagulat na lang ako when I feel that he wrapped his arms around my waist again.

"Take me to my room, Giovanni!" I drunkenly asked him and even poked his nose.

Giovanni replied, "I'll not lay a single hand of mine to a woman unless they want me to."

"I'm not intending that, monsieur!" I defended myself.

"Then why are you hugging me now?"

My face heated and stood straight, "I-I am not... clearly not!"

"Fuck," he cursed.

I woke up when I heard some baggage. Even though it's hard, I still slowly opened my eyes. I didn't drink that much but why am I experiencing a hangover?

Halos wala na rin akong maalala that happened last night. Did he take me here? Or maybe Narse, my make-up artist brought me here?

"Explain this, Fiorella!" My manager, who was sitting in a coach, showed me the news on her laptop. I looked at Narse who was fixing my clothes and putting them in the maleta.

I removed the comfort blanket and went to it immediately so I could read it.

International Filipina Supermodel Fiorella Estelle smiles to CEO Giovanni Mereum Last Fashion Show

"Inside of the article, you showed interest in one of the famous CEOs here in France, Fiorella!" My manager erupted. "Not just a famous CEO, but to Giovanni Mereum!"

"I didn't... I'll explain, Morgan!" I continuously said to her, "I swear! That wasn't intentional!"

"Intentionally or not, the camera captured it. My goodness. 3 years have passed and you're still careless."

"I'm sorry, okay? It's my fault that the bright light illuminates my eyes that made my lips raise." I said. I just hugged my knees and looked outside of the clear window.

"I'll fix this one, Fiorella. Just... just don't socialize... don't get too close to Giovanni." Morgan explained to me. I understand that, and right now... I'm hoping for the best. "Prepare and compose yourself because we will have a flight going to the Philippines."

With what happened earlier this morning, I wear black glasses so that when I come down, the reporters cannot see my eyes that much. Gladly at nakabawi rin ako ng tulog sa flight.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Manila International Airport. On behalf of Airfly Coterie Airlines and the entire crew, I'd like to thank you for joining us on this trip and we are looking forward to seeing you onboard again in the near future. Have a nice stay!"

After I heard the announcement, I wore my black shades. When I passed to one of the Flight Attendants, I could feel his familiarity.

"Thank you, Ma'am Fiorella, for choosing Airfly Coterie!" he said with his familiar voice. If I can recall, he was one of my college mates that made me grateful back then. I was going to ask his name but I remember that the camera is surrounding us. Ayoko nang gumawa pa ng additional issue.

"Ma'am, let's go," my manager, Morgan whispered as she blocked the camera's ways.

"Fiorella Estelle, how's your Paris fashion show?"

"Ms. Fiorella, what made you come back to the Philippines again?"

"Is the famous International CEO your current boyfriend?"

"Are you dating Mr. Giovanni Mereum right now?"

My manager walked beside me, "Just smile and hide your emotions in your black glasses."

After the landing, I saw some of my fans carrying their banners and other stuff. Thank goodness to the body guards na humaharang sa kanila. Even though na pabalik-balik lang ako ng Pilipinas... just for the shoots and projects, my name here is not fading.

"Hoy! Ang ganda pa rin ni Fiorella!"

"Walang kupas!"

"Tama! Kaso nga lang may boyfriend na, eh! French ang lahi!"

"Ba't ka naniniwala sa gano'n? Ako endgame ni Fiorella!"

"Hala, bobo! Ako!"

I just shook my head repeatedly. These people...

Malapit na kaming makalabas not until a fan requested to have a picture with me.

I moved my head para sakop ng camera. I was static for a moment because of how I am traumatized by the things that could snap some moments.

"I-I'm sorry," I just said to my fan. I took his pen para na lang bigyan ng signature 'yung magazine niya. In front of the cover was my summer bikini shoot.

My sight gazed at a familiar guy. Kahit na naka-black hoodie siya, surgical mask, and a black cap... I still can see him.

"Not that stupid French Monsieur," I whispered. I wonder kung why siya nandito sa Pilipinas! Is he stalking me? Gusto pa ba niya lumala ang issue?

Not until... I somehow remember what happened last night. I now know the reason why he was cursing while I'm getting drunk.

"Thank you, Fiorella! I love you!" My fan shouted. That is my cue to continue my walk going outside.

Before I went inside the van, may mga reporters pa rin na nag-aask sa akin, why did I come back to the Philippines again, and if I already have a boyfriend.

"Calm down, Ms. Fio," Morgan stated.

"I know," I immediately answered.

I saw my make-up artist directly touch up on me.

"You'll have a 30 minutes break before your photoshoot begins. Kaya kapag nasa studio ka na, compose yourself," my manager explained before she took her phone. Ibinaling na lang niya 'yung attention niya sa tawag, "Yes! Yes! We're on our way." she exclaimed not until her face changed into an excitement.

"What do you mean? The master of camera shots, Clayden Nyt will take Fiorella's magazine pictures?" Morgan additionally asked.

Suddenly my heart beats fast. I couldn't even move, it was like an explosion of energy inside when I heard his name again. It is completely new, unconscious and moreover, it is strange and powerful.

Being in this state... having a name is what I strived for many years. I'm happy... more than happy with what I have right now. But even though I have my career... even though I have a name in this industry, there's still something missing in me. I don't know what it is but one thing is for sure, I will just need to focus on what I have now.

"Ms. Estelle, can you do a pose for me, please?" Professional Photographer Clayden Nyt asked me while looking into my eyes. And the other one was at the camera.

Estelle... I don't want to hear that name in his damn mouth again.

He let down his camera hanging on his neck. He became blurred when another man entered my peripheral vision.

A man wearing a black hoodie was holding a coffee. The coffee brand was familiar to me. Because my childhood friend who was holding a camera and I were always going to that café until before I left him.

"Please?" My childhood best friend... The one who took my hand to see and to experience the strange world outside and inside the screen... And the both best and worst man who entered my life asked me once more. His eyes were begging not until a tear from his eyes poured.

To the man who was behind my childhood best friend, there was Giovanni. To the man in front who was holding a cup of coffee, there was Clayden.

Should I give him a shot?

Or...

Shouldn't I make memories with him... anymore?

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