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Song of this one-shot :
Exist for love- Aurora
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Fashion house Rose Weil, New York, 2018
The night had already peaked long ago.
New York, the city that never sleeps, seemed very calm on this cold autumn night. Yellow and orange leaves dotted the city streets and were drenched in the pouring rain. Everyone had stayed at home, warm and protected.
I myself was locked up in my fashion studio, meticulously crafting and devoting myself religiously body, soul and spirit to my art. My fingers were sore from constantly stitching, sewing and darning the fabric.
Dark circles in my eyes and heavy with fatigue, my body sore from these hours of work, I stepped back and admired my masterpiece.
The marvelous was standing there, draped over the wooden mannequin, surrounded by my various sketches and scraps of fabric. The dress stood in all its glory and I couldn't help but smile softly, reminding myself of who this treasure rightfully belonged to.
It was belonging to her.
To her.
The muse.
My love.
My world was limited to her. Just her.
Very often my creations were an ode to her beauty, to her prodigious soul. Each piece was a token of my limitless affection. From Rose Weil to Y/N Weil.
Y/N was born to shine under the fire of thousands of spotlights. Born to be adored and admired. Whether as a big movie star or simply as Y/N.
Earlier, too absorbed in my art, I ignored the presence of my wife in the studio. She was always by my side and I couldn't really forget her as her curious eyes followed my every move. The feel of her gaze comforted and encouraged me but now I neither felt nor heard her.
I turned back to the couch she was supposed to be sitting on quietly. When my gaze landed on said sofa, I found Y/N completely asleep for, at a glance, quite a while.
"Y/N"
No answer.
I walked over to her sleeping form, crouched down to face level, and studied her.
Her eyes were closed. Her beautiful lips were parted and I could hear the soft sound of her breathing. A stray strand of hair from her bun hiding the view on her beautiful face, I pushed her away as gently as possible so as not to wake her. She stirred a little at my touch but didn't wake up. I saw a smile form on her lips and concluded that my gesture was the trigger.
Without holding back any longer, I placed a chaste kiss on her forehead before placing a blanket on her sleeping form.
