Weekends

The sun had barely risen, casting a soft golden hue over the city, but Elara was already wide awake. She'd barely slept, tossing and turning for hours, her mind racing with everything Ryder had said. "I'm not gonna run." Those words kept echoing in her head. She didn't want to trust anyone. But Ryder... he made her feel something different. Something she wasn't ready for.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, snapping her out of her thoughts. It was her agent.

> "Where are you? The shoot starts in 30 minutes. Get moving, Elara."

A wave of anxiety washed over her as she looked at the clock — it was later than she thought. She'd promised herself she would keep the Ellie Brown mask on today, but she knew her modeling life wouldn't wait. She had responsibilities.

Sighing, she got out of bed and made her way to the bathroom. She looked at her reflection. The girl staring back at her wasn't Ellie. It was Elara Blake, the supermodel — and she hated it. But today, she would have to embrace it.

---

Elara stepped out of the black SUV, adjusting the sunglasses that were always a part of her "shield" when she went out. Her bodyguard, Marcus, followed closely behind her, his presence as constant as the chaos in her life.

The photo studio was tucked away in the heart of an industrial district, hidden behind high gates and security cameras. No one could get in without permission, not that anyone dared to try. The only people who mattered were the designers, the photographers, and of course, Elara herself.

Inside, the atmosphere was electric. The sound of heels clicking against the polished concrete floor mixed with the hum of hairdryers and makeup brushes. Her stylist waved her over, immediately ushering her into a room where a team of professionals awaited.

"Elara, darling, you're late," the stylist, Laura, said as she assessed Elara's look. "But it's fine. We'll work with it."

Elara didn't respond, only nodding as her hair was tugged, pulled, and styled into perfection. She didn't want to be here, but there was no choice.

A few minutes later, her makeup was done, and she was ready to step in front of the camera. The photographer, a tall man with sharp eyes, motioned for her to come closer.

"Elara, we need strong today. Powerful," he said as he set up the shot. "We're selling strength — not softness."

Elara nodded, slipping into her role as the untouchable Elara Blake. She didn't feel strong. She felt trapped. But as the camera clicked away, she realized there was no turning back.

---

The photo shoot lasted for hours, her legs aching, her mind numb. It was the same routine every weekend. She posed, smiled, looked glamorous, and pretended to be someone she wasn't. All for the brands.

But as the shoot wound down, her worst fear came to life.

She heard it before she saw it — the rapid-fire clicking of camera shutters. Paparazzi had found them.

Elara's heart raced. She couldn't afford another scandal, not with everything already at stake.

"Get in the car, now!" Marcus ordered, his voice sharp.

Elara didn't hesitate. She sprinted toward the back exit of the studio, but not before catching a glimpse of the paparazzi huddled behind barricades, their cameras pointed directly at her.

For a moment, she felt exposed. All of her carefully constructed walls crumbled, and the girl she wanted to hide from the world was standing there, naked in the spotlight.

As the car sped away, Elara slumped in her seat, covering her face with her hands.

---

The weekend was far from over, and Elara still had one more thing to do — attend her sister Savannah's art show. She promised Savannah she would be there, and despite everything that had happened, she couldn't break that promise.

Elara arrived at the art gallery, her heart pounding as she stepped into the sleek, modern space. The walls were lined with vibrant, thought-provoking pieces — each one a reflection of Savannah's soul. Elara smiled as she walked past, admiring the works. Savannah had such a gift.

But as she turned a corner, she froze.

There, standing in the middle of the room, was Ryder West.

His tall frame leaned casually against one of the walls, arms crossed, eyes scanning the crowd. The moment Elara stepped into the gallery, his gaze locked onto hers.

For a second, it felt like time stopped. Elara's breath caught in her throat. What was he doing here? Did he recognize her?

Savannah spotted her from across the room and waved excitedly, oblivious to the tension building between the two. Elara forced a smile, walking toward her sister, but Ryder didn't take his eyes off her.

Savannah pulled Elara into a hug, beaming with pride. "You made it! I knew you would."

Elara hugged her back, but her gaze remained on Ryder, who was still watching her. There was no way to escape the magnetism between them.

"Glad you could come," Savannah added, looking at Ryder with a hint of curiosity. "This is Ryder. He's a friend from school."

Elara's heart skipped a beat. Ryder knew about her secret? Did he recognize her from the paparazzi photos? Or was it something else?

Ryder gave her a small smile. "I see you made it, Elara."

The way he said her name, like he knew who she really was, made Elara's stomach drop. She had to be careful.

"Hi, Ryder," Elara said, keeping her tone light. "This is my sister, Savannah."

Ryder's gaze flicked between the two sisters, clearly making the connection. "Nice to meet you, Savannah."

Savannah smiled warmly, not noticing the tension in the air. "Elara's always so busy with work, but I'm glad she could make it."

Elara was about to say something when she noticed something strange. Ryder's phone screen had a faint reflection of her face, and it was flashing — like a text message alert.

Before she could ask, Savannah pulled her away to look at more artwork, but Elara's mind was racing.

---

Back at the Hotel — Another Message

By the time the show wrapped up and Elara made her way back to the car, her phone buzzed again. It was from an unknown number.

> "You're not fooling anyone, Elara. I'll be watching."

Her heart skipped a beat. It was the stalker again. But how had they known she was at the art show? How had they known Ryder was there too?

She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. The walls around her life were closing in, and she didn't know how much longer she could keep the secret.

---

As the car sped back to her apartment, Elara couldn't shake the feeling that Ryder was getting closer to the truth. She didn't know if she could hide much longer.

But what terrified her more was that part of her didn't want to hide anymore.

She stared out the window, her thoughts swirling. What would happen if Ryder found out? Would he still look at her the same way? Or would he see her as the model everyone else saw?

For once, Elara wasn't sure what she wanted.

But she knew this — everything was changing.

And she didn't know if she could control it anymore.

---