The apartment quickly became lively after Akshata and her mother settled into their room.
The other models introduced themselves one by one.
Some had already worked in Paris for several seasons.
Others, like Akshata, were still building their careers.
Although they came from different countries and spoke different languages, everyone was friendly.
Soon conversations filled the apartment.
They discussed castings, fashion shows, favourite foods, and the cities they hoped to visit one day.
Akshata's mother also joined the conversations with a warm smile.
Even when words were limited, kindness needed little translation.
Within a few hours, everyone felt comfortable around one another.
---
After unpacking, mother and daughter decided to visit the nearby supermarket.
They carried two reusable shopping bags and slowly walked through the neighbourhood.
The supermarket wasn't far from the apartment.
Inside, they bought everything needed for the next few days.
Rice.
Green beans.
Carrots.
Onions.
Tomatoes.
Cooking oil.
Milk.
Fresh fruit.
A few basic spices they bought from home
Since they would be staying for several days, buying groceries was much more practical than eating outside every meal.
Returning to the apartment, Akshata arranged the groceries while her mother entered the shared kitchen.
Soon the familiar aroma of Indian cooking filled the apartment.
Her mother prepared freshly cooked rice.
Alongside it, she made a simple green beans palya, lightly seasoned with spices.
The comforting smell drifted into the living room.
One by one, the other models curiously walked toward the kitchen.
"That smells wonderful," one of them said with a smile.
Akshata's mother laughed gently.
"I've made a little extra."
"If you'd like to taste it, please join us."
The girls happily accepted.
Each took a small serving of rice and the green beans palya.
Some had never tasted South Indian home cooking before.
After the first bite, smiles appeared around the table.
"It's delicious."
"So simple..."
"...but so comforting."
Akshata smiled as she watched everyone enjoy the meal.
For a moment, the apartment no longer felt like temporary accommodation.
It felt like home.
---
After dinner, everyone cleaned their own plates and her mother cleaned kitchen wiped the counters.
Within minutes, everything was spotless again.
The apartment slowly became quiet as each model began preparing for the next day's castings.
Akshata returned to her room.
She carefully unpacked the outfit selected for the morning fitting as she already attended casting.
Using the garment steamer provid in the apartment, she gently removed every crease from the clothes.
She checked the shoes.
Prepared the accessories.
Packed her portfolio.
Charged her laptop and phone.
Finally, she neatly placed everything beside the wardrobe so nothing would be rushed the following morning.
Her mother looked at her with pride.
"You've become very organised."
Akshata smiled.
"In this industry, being prepared is just as important as walking well."
Before sleeping, she looked once through the window at the quiet Paris streets below.
Tomorrow would be another busy day.
Another step toward the future she was determined to build.
The second day of fittings passed just as smoothly as the first.
There were final adjustments to a few garments.
Some dresses needed minor alterations.
Shoes were matched to each outfit.
Accessories were finalized.
Hair and makeup references were confirmed by the creative teams.
By evening, every designer was satisfied.
The preparation was complete.
The next three days would be entirely different.
They were show days.
---
The first morning of Fashion Week began before sunrise.
Backstage was already buzzing with activity.
Hair stylists hurried from one chair to another.
Makeup artists carefully worked on each model.
Dressers checked every garment for loose threads or missing buttons.
Designers walked around giving final instructions.
Akshata quietly sat in her chair, waiting for her turn.
Although this was only her second international season, she remained calm.
She knew the routine now.
One of the stylists smiled at her.
"You're still very young."
"We've prepared age-appropriate looks for you."
Since Akshata was still under eighteen, the designers and styling teams were careful with every outfit assigned to her.
Her wardrobe reflected youthful elegance.
Beautiful dresses.
Tailored jackets.
Flowing skirts.
Classic silhouettes.
Everything was selected thoughtfully to suit both the collection and her age.
Akshata appreciated their professionalism.
She felt respected.
---
When the music began, the first model stepped onto the runway.
A few moments later...
"Akshata."
"You're next."
She took a slow breath.
Then stepped onto the runway.
The bright lights shone ahead.
Photographers raised their cameras.
Every step was steady.
Every turn was confident.
Every expression remained composed.
Months of practice showed in her walk.
When she disappeared backstage, one of the designers smiled with satisfaction.
"Very good."
The compliment was simple.
But it meant a great deal.
---
The next show followed later that day.
Then another.
Each collection had a completely different theme.
For every show, Akshata transformed into a different character through styling, makeup, and clothing.
One moment she looked youthful and elegant.
The next she appeared modern and sophisticated.
Another collection emphasized simplicity and natural beauty.
She adapted effortlessly.
Backstage, the creative teams began remembering her name.
"Where is Akshata?"
"She's in the next lineup."
"Call Akshata for the fitting."
It was a small change.
But an important one.
She was no longer just another face in the lineup.
People had started recognizing her.
---
The second day of shows was even busier.
Designers greeted her warmly.
Stylists already knew which hairstyles suited her.
Dressers prepared her outfits before she even reached backstage.
One senior model smiled.
"You're making quite an impression this season."
Akshata thanked her politely.
Inside, she reminded herself not to become overconfident.
Every show was a new opportunity to prove herself.
Every runway required the same discipline as the first.
---
By the end of the third day, she had completed all the scheduled shows without a single mistake.
Her professionalism, punctuality, and calm attitude earned the respect of the backstage teams.
As mother and daughter walked back to the apartment that evening through the streets of Paris, her mother smiled proudly.
"You've grown so much."
Akshata looked up at the evening sky.
"I'm still learning."
"But I want every season to be better than the last."
Without realizing it, the quiet teenager from India had begun making a place for herself in the international fashion industry—one runway, one collection, and one confident step at a time.