Aton’s Sarcasm?

VIVIENNE STOOD BACKSTAGE, adjusting the collar of her sleek black dress. A look of worry was etched on her face.

Tonight was her biggest night yet—a fashion showcase dedicated exclusively to her designs. She had poured her heart and soul into every piece since last year, yet she still couldn’t help but feel pressured and doubtful.

Everyone's expectations skyrocketed after winning the “Best Designer of the Year” award. And now, with the entire industry watching, she felt more pressure than ever.

“Are we set? Is everything good?” Vivienne asked, scanning the organizers. It was evident in her voice that she was stressed.

She glanced around the venue, which was nearly ready, bustling with the final touches on the seating, lights, and sound.

It all needed to be flawless because, to her, any mistake would feel like a personal failure. Each time she heard a minor sound or noticed a change in lighting, she was right there, asking if it was okay. She didn’t want anything overlooked.

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