Kapitel 25: CHAPTER 25: ANYONE HAS A TALE TO TELL

Samantha went to the powder room to cool down. Beads of sweat adorned her forehead as she remembered what had happened and why she found herself standing in the middle of the hallway.

She overheard two ladies chatting about her as she reached for the door. Curiosity kicked in, so she paused to listen. The door was slightly open, and she discreetly leaned in to catch a glimpse of the person inside. It turned out to be Vivoree, her college schoolmate, and Pinky, her friend. They were busy fixing themselves, applying lipstick, and combing their long hair in front of the wide, clear mirror on the wall.

"Girl, I wanted to laugh harder when Samantha said she was the best designer here. Who the hell would claim she is the best designer in this the best of best fashion houses in New York? Like duh? Even a veteran fashion designer wouldn't tell themselves they are the best, right?" she said to her friend while applying lipstick on her lips. It was Pinky who made talking a hobby. She was one of the girls who never ran out of words.

Vivoree remained silent, gently combing her long hair. She was a listener, a quiet girl who spoke only when necessary. Samantha vividly recalled Vivoree as one of the nerds in their class back then. Others had bullied her because she loved to wear long dresses and thick glasses, yet she chose to pursue fashion design. People found it ironic, questioning why she took up fashion design when she seemed unable to apply fashion to herself.

Samantha and Vivoree had a casual conversation during their final week in college. Vivoree shared that she chose fashion design not to enhance her style but because she desired to see people wearing her designed clothes with warm smiles, making them feel confident in displaying their own beauty. At that moment, Samantha admired Vivoree for having a beautiful soul.

After silence, Vivoree said, "Sam was a talented designer." Her words echoed in the quiet powder room, "I knew her. We attended the same college. Sam was a good soul, well-versed in her craft. Passionate and humble. It's disheartening to see a beautiful soul like hers crushed by a harsh environment," she added softly, a mixture of sadness and concern woven into her words.

Pinky asked her curiously, "Why does she seem like she's lost her touch? She appears more like a bold woman flaunting seductive dresses."

She had known Samantha for a few years since she started working at EleganceEra, and Pinky had noticed Samantha's peculiar behavior. Some days, she was calm and kind, wearing long skirts and glasses. On other days, she wore seductive clothes and appeared bold and assertive.

Vivoree met her friend's gaze and smiled, "Everyone has a tale to tell." She paused, tucking her comb into her bag. "But her story is a secret she guards, and I'm not in the right shoes to tell it," she replied, glancing at her friend before tapping her shoulder. "Let's go?"

Samantha hurriedly hid behind a large pot along the wall when she heard the tic-tac-toe of their heels. She didn't want them to see her, as she wasn't ready to face them when she couldn't remember anything. Not now, not tomorrow, and she couldn't imagine when she would have the energy to hold her head high after hearing those words from them.

What had happened? What did she do?

Once the girls were out of sight, she emerged from behind the pot and went to the powder room. She locked the door and leaned her back on it. Confused and overwhelmed by emotions, she tried hard to figure out what was happening by sorting through her memories. The only thing she could remember clearly was sitting in a coffee shop, happily sketching some designs. A bunch of questions raced through her mind. Did she have an accident that wiped out her memory? Or did she somehow mysteriously travel through time?

She couldn't find any answers, and all her questions would be a mystery. Pinky's words lingered in her head in that confusing moment: "Who stole whom?" Is it true that she claims that she is the best designer? Well, she bet she's not going to say that.

As far as she can remember, she was insecure about not making the best dress that her preferences would say would be the best. But Pinky, being the storyteller and gossip lover she was, always had a basis for everything she said. All the stories and gossip she shared with her friend Vivoree were true. This only added to Samantha's confusion, making everything even more perplexing.

She looked into the mirror, and as her eyes moved over her reflection, a harsh truth confronted her. In front of her was a woman dressed in makeup, wearing a bold red dress, with lips painted in a striking shade of crimson. "Is this me?" she asked softly, moving towards the mirror, her hands reaching for her cheeks. Confusion painted itself across her face. "This isn't the real me," she uttered hoarsely. "No... no... who's this woman in the mirror? This isn't me! No!" A bunch of questions raced through her mind.

What happened? Who's that stranger that is staring back at her in the mirror? She wished she could say the mirror was lying, but she knew in a world full of lies, the mirror told the truth. She slapped her cheeks as if trying to escape a weird dream. But she failed; it was not a dream but a painful reality. Was this why her mother harbored such intense hatred despite her sincere efforts?

Had she unintentionally become a version of herself that was hard to bear? She downed to her knees with a river of tears in her eyes, and she let out her heavy heart with a loud cry. She is exhausted, blisters forming on her feet from the relentless high heels; Samantha lets out tears. Confusion overwhelmed her; it felt like she was in the wrong person's body.

Who could help in this confusing situation? With no one to talk to, she grappled with her loneliness. She was an only child, living alone with her mother, who did nothing but tell her she hated her existence. She had no friends and nothing but a body torn between two versions of herself she wasn't ready to accept.