The sight of her supporters bolstered her morale, masking the nervousness. Her pulse drummed relentlessly, a rhythmic thrumming echoing in her ears with every measured, agonizing step. She struggled to mimic a professional gait in her condition, but she was no longer the vulnerable designer who had first signed up—she was the fierce face of her own creation.
Shocked whispers rippled through the audience at her choice of footwear, but she refused to be discouraged; her comfort and her survival came first. Fixing her gaze on the end of the podium, she pushed forward through the strobing camera flashes, her heels echoing a steady rhythm against the red carpet.
Reaching the head of the deck, Selina struck the most elegant pose she could muster, her chin tilted subtly in a final act of defiance.
