2:03 a.m.
Eliana stared at her phone screen, the harsh glow lighting her tired face.
No messages.
No calls.
Still nothing.
Around her, the studio buzzed—garment bags rustling, steamer fog hissing, assistants darting back and forth as final fittings for the summer line fell into place. The show was in two days. Chaos was expected. Controlled panic was part of the job.
"El?"
She jumped.
Liam was standing a few feet away, tablet in hand, brows slightly raised. "Are the male line models confirmed for the 3 p.m. rehearsal tomorrow?"
"Yeah—yes," she said quickly, locking her screen. "Sorry. I was just—checking something."
Liam glanced at her phone, then back at her. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah." Her voice was a little too fast. "I'm fine. Just a little tired."
Liam looked at her closely, his eyes assessing. "Are you sure? You want help? A break? Anything?"
Eliana shook her head gently. "No, I'm okay. I'll go check on the artists."
