Vogue | Tony Stark

TWELVE - A SURPRISE VISIT

Estélla finally let out the breath she'd been holding in when the last model walked out onto the runway, leaving her stood backstage with a collapsed group of stylists and makeup artists that were finally able to rest, too.

She had been in Paris for four days preparing for the show and had been awake on that particular day since three o'clock in the morning. The cocktail of adrenaline, stress and excitement, however, had been enough to carry her through an incredibly long day, not even a hint of tiredness creeping into her bright eyes once backstage fell quiet.

The show she'd spent months working on with Saint Laurent's Creative Direction, Anthony Vaccarello, had been a firework of a success. Everything ran smoothly thanks to meticulous planning and preparation, help from an army of a team that worked tirelessly to dress models and of course, the models who walked just as flawlessly as they always did.

It was sunset by that time and the catwalk beneath the Eiffel Tower was adorned with every model that had walked the show, applauded by rows of spectators that had risen to their feet to share their appreciation and love for what they'd just seen.

Estélla hadn't been on the runway since earlier that morning when she'd had a stroll down before the sun had risen. Staff were setting up chairs for guests and hanging name tags over the front of them, her stomach turning when she saw the names of her parents on the front row, knowing that those seats would be filled by strangers once she informed them that her parents were in fact not attending the show.

It had bothered her for a while but Esté was forced to get over the fact she wouldn't be sharing the moment with the most important people in her life. It hadn't been a new occurrence though, since the times that Giovanni had actually attended her shows while they were together had been thinly few and far between.

It felt strange not walking a show herself since it was practically second nature to her at that point, but she'd enjoyed the challenge that directing a show had presented her and, like everything in life, she conquered it, and then some.

"Ready?" Anthony held out his arm to Estélla, both of them stood in the wings of the catwalk.

Inhaling sharply, Estélla's smile spread across her face and into a sparkle through her blue eyes, nodding as she linked her arm through his. She was sporting a stunning Saint Laurent slip dress in the darkest shade of of iridescent  black with a pair of stunning Opyum heeled sandals, Anthony in a suit crafted from the same fabric as her dress and a sharp white shirt with a pair of shoes that shone almost as bright as both of their smiles did.

"Ready," she said.

They walked arm in arm down the middle of the runway, models creating a pathway for them on either side as the crowd increased their applause and cheers for the masterminds behind the show.

Estélla desperately wanted to appear humble and keep her cool, though the giddiness had consumed her and her excitement couldn't be hidden from the appearance her bright red cheeks and the gloss of tears over her eyes.

Not wanting to ruin her makeup that had somehow lasted since five-thirty that morning, Estélla swallowed the lump in her throat and dabbed gently at the corners of her eyes with a gentle laugh, trying to keep her skin free of any tears despite feeling overwhelmed with immense pride in herself.

Unable to resist the urge, Estélla pulled her eyes over to the two chairs that had been reserved for her parents, curiosity getting the better of her when she wondered who had filled them.

She'd expected to see a familiar face occupying the spare seats since it was usually a rotation of the same celebrities and fashion giants that attended the shows, though what Estélla hadn't expected, was to see her best friend.