Vogue | Tony Stark

FIFTY ONE - BROKEN

The monotonous drone of life continued day by day for Estélla. She worked and worked and worked with a smile on her face and a spring in her step so high that nobody would've ever been able to tell that anything was wrong.

Esté attended her photoshoots and ran her meetings, went for dinners with her friends and continued to pour time and effort into the charities she helped, making guest speaker appearances at events in and around the city.

Estélla was a powerhouse and those closest to her had noticed how hard she'd been working since Tony went away, however they'd also noticed that her skin wasn't shining quite as bright and her hands were shakier than they once had been, no longer the calm, steady tide of a woman that they knew.

Alicia and Katy tried their best to comfort their friend and ease her mind enough to at least gift her a couple of hours of sleep at night, but their advice was always tainted when they now had the same worry about their own partners, all three girls wondering when, if ever, their other halves would return home.

Regardless of the hurt, night and day continued to come, and on the eve of the Victoria's Secret fashion show, Estélla had taken herself out on a run around the West Village in attempt to clear her head.

When she turned the corner back onto her street, Esté's heart sank at the sight of seven photographers camped outside of her house, all of them instantly turning and pointing their cameras in her direction when they noticed her appear.

"Estélla, is it true you're dating Tony Stark again?"

"Miss Goldwyn, are the rumours about your relationship with Christian Bale true?"

"Is the Iron Man really dead?"

"Estélla are you in love with Tony Stark?"

With her head down and her fists tightened, Estélla walked briskly past the cameras and straight into her home, locking the door behind her and sinking down with her back against the wood, face in her hands and a stream of tears held back by a laboured breath that echoed in the empty hallway.

The house was dark and cold and Esté stayed with her back to the front door until she heard the last set of footsteps walk away, silence finally lingering outside, though not in the loudness that consumed her mind.

Sleep called from the depths of her bones but as usual when Estélla crawled into bed and held one of Tony's t-shirts close to her face, her eyes stayed wide open. She lay on her side facing the window, staring out at the sky waiting for that pulse to light up the screen of her phone.

Only that night, the notification never came.

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"Esté, are you ready? You're walking in 5."

Backstage at the Victoria's Secret fashion show had been carnage last year, and that year was no different. It was nearly impossible to find the space and time to breathe, let alone do anything else, but breathing wasn't what interested Esté, not anymore.

She'd taken herself out of the madness and to a dressing room off to the side. There were rails of backup outfits and extra sizes of everything in case one of the understudy girls needed to step in, but through the hangers and the wings was the only window Estélla could find in the whole place.

Stood with her hands resting on the windowsill, Esté was staring hopefully out at the blue sky. It was cloudless, a beautiful autumn day that reminded her of the type of weather that would make her and Tony want to spend the day walking around Central Park in scarves and sunglasses and watching people ice skate.