The lights of the studio were bright, bouncing off the glossy backdrop. Travier stood tall, his sharp jawline and easy confidence making the new line of clothes come alive. Beside him, Saphirra dabbed a bit of powder across his cheek, her touch steady but soft. It was their rhythm—he walked the runway, she made sure he looked flawless.
Fans crowded outside, screaming his name, pressing posters against the glass, desperate for a glimpse. Travier smiled politely, but his eyes always found Saphirra's. She was his calm in the chaos.
But that calm cracked when the manager barged in with the last outfit of the day. It was a bold design, more revealing than any Travier had ever worn—low-cut, hugging his figure, leaving little to the imagination.
"This will blow up the headlines," the manager grinned, thrusting it toward him.
Saphirra froze. "No. That's not fashion, that's exploitation." Her voice was firm, protective.
Travier looked at the outfit, then at her. He knew she wasn't just his makeup artist in that moment—she was his wife, his safe place. But he also knew the pressure of the industry. "Saphirra, it's just work," he said quietly.
Her eyes flashed. "Work is one thing, Travier, but you're not some object for them to strip down. You're more than that."
The room went tense. The manager rolled her eyes, muttering about "art" and "publicity." Fans screamed even louder outside as if demanding the spectacle already.
Travier held the outfit in his hands, torn. He wanted to please everyone—the manager, the fans—but most of all, he didn't want to lose the trust in Saphirra's eyes.
Finally, he set the clothes back on the rack. "No. I'll model the fashion, not my body. If that's a problem, then maybe I'm not your model anymore."
Saphirra's shoulders softened with relief. She stepped closer, brushing a bit of foundation across his cheek again, her hands gentler this time. "That's my husband," she whispered.
The manager stormed off, muttering about "difficult stars," but Travier didn't care. The flashing lights, the fans, the chaos—it all faded. For him, the only spotlight that mattered was the one in Saphirra's eyes.
Time slipped by quickly, and before they realized it, the lunch break had arrived. Saphirra and Travier walked side by side to the cafeteria, their steps naturally falling into rhythm with each other. Instead of heading for the usual food counters, Saphirra carefully unpacked the lunch she had prepared from home.
Travier's eyes lit up the moment he saw it. A wide grin spread across his face, almost boyish in its charm. "Homemade?" he asked, leaning a little closer, his tone half-surprised, half-teasing. "You're spoiling me now."
Saphirra rolled her eyes softly but couldn't help smiling at his delight. "Spoiling? You've been living on takeout for weeks. You need real food before you start looking like one of those cardboard models you pose with."
Her playful jab only made him laugh. He picked up a bite and tasted it, pausing just long enough to savor the flavor before looking at her again, this time with warmth in his gaze. "I've missed this so much," he admitted, his voice low and sincere. "No matter how busy we get, nothing compares to food made by your hands... or the love you put into it."
Saphirra's cheeks warmed, though she quickly masked it with a smirk. "Flattery won't get you the bigger share, mister."
"Worth a try," Travier chuckled, brushing his shoulder lightly against hers as they shared their meal.
After finishing their meal, Saphirra packed away the empty containers while Travier stretched, looking far too energized for someone who had just eaten. Hand in hand, they made their way back to the studio, where Travier's manager was already waiting by the door, clipboard in hand and an expression that meant business.
"Perfect timing," the manager said briskly. "We need to finalize details for tomorrow's fan sign event."
At the mention of it, Travier's face lit up instantly. His grin widened, his excitement practically bubbling over. "Finally! I get to see everyone in person. I can't wait." He spoke with the enthusiasm of someone about to reunite with old friends rather than greet hundreds of eager fans.
Saphirra, standing quietly at his side, felt a flicker of hesitation. She worried about the long hours, the overwhelming crowd, and the pressure he constantly carried on his shoulders. For a brief moment, her smile wavered.
But then she looked at him—the way his eyes sparkled with anticipation, the way his hands gestured animatedly as he spoke with his manager. That joy was real, pure, and infectious. Slowly, her expression softened, and a smile crept onto her lips.
She squeezed his hand gently, her voice quiet but full of warmth. "If it makes you this happy... then I'm happy too."
Travier glanced at her, his grin only widening as he pulled her a little closer. "That's my Saphirra. Always with me."