Zoe's POV
I marched out of school that afternoon with my friends, filled with a newfound hope. It felt like everything was falling into place. The weekly showcase was around the corner, and it felt within reach.
But something kept biting at me.
There's no modeling without a catwalk. And mine? Absolutely awful.
I'd tried several times with Chloe. I remembered one afternoon in her room—we were both lying on our stomachs, side by side on her bed, watching a runway video on her phone. It was a clip from a fashion night, the runway lit like a stage, crowds surrounding it like royalty watching a parade. Models strolled down in colourful stunning outfits, heads high, faces like living statues. Maybe it was the makeup, but they looked unreal.
What really caught my eye was the way they walked—powerful, poised, like the earth bowed beneath their feet.
I stared at the screen, stunned. "How are they not looking down while walking in such tall heels?"
