Morning came with pale light and the faint vibration of traffic. Lila woke up early, her alarm still flashing before it rang. She had dreamed of walking, endless walking, down a runway that never ended. When she opened her eyes, the ceiling looked like a blank screen. Her throat felt dry. She made instant coffee, stared at the small pot boiling, and tried to believe that yesterday’s email was still real. The official contract would be signed today. She packed her bag carefully, adding lipstick, a small comb, and her lucky silver bracelet that used to belong to her mom.

The modeling agency’s office was a place of glass and silence. Every reflection felt like a judgment. A receptionist in black smiled without warmth and handed her the papers. “Read before you sign,” she said. The pages looked thick, full of words that seemed too legal for something called a dream. Lila skimmed, catching phrases like exclusive rights, image control, behavioral standard. Her hand trembled a bit as she signed her name at the bottom. The pen left a small ink blot. It looked like a drop of spilled courage.

Training became more intense that week. They called it the “mirror sessions.” Each model had to practice walking for hours while instructors circled, correcting posture, face angle, stride length. The mirrors stretched on every wall, endless versions of herself watching in silence. Sometimes Lila couldn’t tell which one was the real her. “Head up, no emotion,” one instructor said again. The rule felt heavier each day.

At lunch, Sophie sat beside her, unwrapping an apple she wasn’t supposed to eat. “I heard the agency is bringing in photographers from New York next month,” she whispered. “Big names.” Lila nodded, chewing a tiny salad. The air smelled of perfume and stress. “Maybe that’s good,” she said softly. Sophie shrugged. “Good for the agency, maybe not for us.” They both laughed quietly, though nothing felt funny.

That evening, during a makeup session, Lila overheard two stylists talking. “The new girl’s too soft,” one said. “She’ll break.” The other replied, “Doesn’t matter, they’ll shape her. They always do.” Lila looked at herself in the mirror, pretending not to hear. The lights burned her eyes. She thought about how she used to sing at small family parties, barefoot in her mom’s backyard, sunlight on her face. The memory felt like another lifetime.

Later that week, the models were sent to an outdoor photo shoot in downtown LA. The theme was “Urban Goddess.” They stood on rooftops in silver dresses, wind machines blowing hair into perfect chaos. Photographers shouted, assistants ran, and music blasted. Between takes, Lila caught a glimpse of the city below—people walking, cars moving, life happening without scripts. She envied them for a moment. Then someone yelled, “Back to position.” She turned, fixed her face again, and smiled for the camera.

That night, back in her small apartment, she tried to unwind. Her phone buzzed with messages from classmates she hadn’t talked to in years. You’re famous now, one said. Saw your photo on the agency page. Another said, You look amazing, girl. Lila typed thank you but didn’t send it. The words felt hollow. She stared at her reflection on the dark screen. The glow of the city leaked through her window, coloring her face blue and gold.

She took a breath and started humming again, quietly, just like before. The sound filled the space. She tried to remember how singing made her feel—free, messy, human. She imagined a small crowd, not of judges or clients, but people listening, not watching. Her heart softened. She whispered, “One day, maybe.”

The next morning, she arrived at training early. The studio was empty except for her reflection. She turned on her phone’s voice recorder and sang softly, letting her voice bounce off the mirrors. No music, no plan, just her. When the others came in, she stopped quickly and hid the phone in her bag.

Sophie gave her a curious look. “You sing?” she asked. Lila smiled shyly. “Only when no one’s listening.” Sophie grinned. “You should let someone listen. Might be better than walking in heels all day.”

Lila laughed, but a small spark flickered inside her chest. She didn’t know yet, but that spark would soon set her whole path on fire.