Kate lay stretched out on her bed, one leg bent, the other hanging off the edge. The room was quiet, lit only by the warm glow of the lamp on her nightstand and the soft light of her phone screen, resting on her stomach. Outside, the city buzzed—horns, distant voices, the muffled pulse of nightlife—but in here, it was still. Calm, at least on the surface.
She scrolled through her Twitter feed, thumb drifting slowly, barely noticing the motion. It was all about him. Every other post was a reaction, a meme, or a replay.
"Adriano is the GOAT. The way he dismantled the USA today should be illegal."
"Tim Howard needs a Purple Heart after this match. Guy was in a war zone."
"Adriano was moving like a video game glitch—teleporting past defenders while they lagged in real time."
Kate exhaled through her nose, a small smile forming as she watched a meme of Adriano weaving through defenders with exaggerated sound effects added in. Another had him superimposed in a basketball jersey, dunking on a defender mid-match.
She chuckled quietly. The internet never missed a beat.
But after the scroll ended, so did the smile. Her phone dimmed slightly from inactivity, casting the room back into soft shadow. She stared at the ceiling.
Everyone was talking about Adriano. The world was on fire for him—headlines, analysts, fans, all caught in the high of his latest performance. And he deserved it. He really did.
But she wondered if he ever thought of her. If, in the spaces between goals and interviews and flashing cameras, her name ever crossed his mind.
Probably not.
Kate's phone buzzed again, the sound breaking through the quiet of her room. She glanced down at the screen.
Sophia:"Your celebrity crush is basically football's John Wick. You seeing this??"
Kate let out a small, breathy laugh and tapped the call button without thinking. The phone barely rang once.
"Kate!" Sophia's voice exploded through the speaker. "Please tell me you saw that match. That man was ridiculous. The USA defense was out there questioning their life choices in real time."
Kate smiled, eyes still on the ceiling. "I saw."
"Saw?!" Sophia practically choked. "Kate, Adriano broke those defenders. Like, medieval-break. If this were the Middle Ages, those guys would be shaving their heads and hiding in a monastery by now."
Kate chuckled. "Yeah. He was… impressive."
"'Impressive'?!" Sophia groaned like she was physically in pain. "Kate, that man was out there playing a movie. He looked like he'd memorized the script before the match even started. My brother's friend—he's playing in the squad—he literally turned off his phone after the final whistle. Just went straight to bed. No words. Just shame."
There was a short pause. Then Sophia's voice turned teasing. "So… have you talked to him?"
Kate's smile faltered. "No."
"Kate."
Kate rolled onto her stomach and pressed her cheek into the pillow. "I don't even have his number."
A moment of silence.
Then: "KATE."
"What?" Kate mumbled.
"You're telling me," Sophia said slowly, like she was trying not to yell, "you spent time with him. Face-to-face. You had, like, multiple deep conversations with him. You bonded—didn't you talk about, what was it again? His 'disillusionment with modern fame'?"
Kate groaned. "Don't start."
"And you didn't get his number?" Sophia's voice hit a pitch only reserved for true disbelief. "Are you serious right now?"
Kate buried her face deeper into the pillow. "Shut up."
"No, because I'm genuinely offended on your behalf," Sophia said. "Do you know how many women would literally commit light treason to get Adriano's attention? And you had it—had it—and just let it go? Like some side character in a sad indie drama?"
Kate muttered, "Sophia, please—"
"No. No, I refuse to let this slide. You are not about to become the girl who had her moment and then faded into the background while he gets statues built in his honor."
Kate flipped onto her back again and stared at the ceiling, frustrated. "What do you want me to say?"
"I want you to admit that you like him."
There was a pause. Kate's lips parted, but she didn't say anything right away.
"Kate," Sophia pressed. "Do you actually like this guy, or is it just because he's impossible to get?"
"I don't know," Kate said, quieter now.
Sophia snorted. "Yes, you do. Come on, be real."
Kate closed her eyes. "He's… different."
"How?"
"He doesn't care about being famous," Kate said slowly. "He doesn't fake things. He doesn't try to be what people expect. He's calm. He watches people. Listens more than he talks. It's like… he sees through all of it. The cameras, the glam, the noise. He sees what's real."
Sophia's voice was thoughtful now. "So, you actually respect him."
Kate opened her eyes. "Yeah. I do."
"Then why haven't you done anything about it?"
Kate hesitated. "Because I already know I'm not his type."
Sophia frowned on the other end. "Why would you say that?"
Kate turned her head to the side, eyes fixed on the soft glow of her bedside lamp. "We talked once… about the industry. About how shallow it all feels sometimes. He said he doesn't respect celebrities who sell themselves just to stay relevant. People who chase attention by showing off their bodies, trying to stay in the spotlight no matter what."
Sophia was quiet for a second. Then: "Hmm. And he told you this directly?"
Kate nodded, even though Sophia couldn't see her. "Yeah."
Sophia's voice sharpened. "Okay, first of all, no man sits there and shares his personal philosophy about women unless he wants you to understand where he's coming from."
Kate frowned. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying," Sophia replied, "if a guy isn't interested, he doesn't go out of his way to share his values with you. He either ignores you or pretends to like whatever you like so he can hook up. But Adriano? He opened up to you. That means something."
Kate stayed silent, chewing her lip.
Sophia continued. "He wanted you to know what matters to him. Not in a preachy way, but in a 'this is what I'm about' kind of way. That's not rejection, Kate. That's… clarity."
Kate's voice was small. "So, what do I do with that?"
"You have two choices," Sophia said. "One—you figure out if the version of yourself you've been putting out there is really you. Or two—you keep doing what you're doing and hope it somehow works out, even though it's clearly not making you happy."
Kate's brow furrowed. "But what if changing means I'm only doing it to impress him?"
Sophia's voice softened. "Then don't do it for him. Do it because you want to. Because you're tired of being someone you're not. Because you want to feel like yourself again."
Kate was quiet. The longer the silence stretched, the heavier it felt.
"You've said it before," Sophia went on. "You didn't start modeling to be a brand. You did it because you loved the art, the storytelling. Now you're just someone's campaign. You feel fake, and you know it."
Kate nodded slowly. "I've been thinking about that a lot lately."
"So maybe this isn't about Adriano," Sophia said. "Maybe it's about finally taking a breath and deciding who you actually want to be."
Kate exhaled. "Yeah. Maybe it is."
There was a moment of calm, then Sophia's tone shifted—lighter, but still serious. "Okay, great. Self-discovery is awesome. But also—call the man. Invite him over. Make a move."
Kate smiled faintly. "You really think I should?"
"Yes!" Sophia said, exasperated. "Worst case? He says he's not interested, and you get closure. Best case? He shows up on your doorstep and turns into your actual fairy-tale ending. Either way, you get your answer."
Kate sat up slowly, running a hand through her hair.
"Stop waiting for fate," Sophia added. "Reach out. If he likes you, you'll know. And if he doesn't, you can stop wondering and move on. But don't let it sit in limbo."
Kate nodded to herself. "Alright. I'll invite him. After the World Cup."
Sophia let out a victorious little cheer. "Finally! And hey—if he ghosts you, I will post those old party pics of you with Karen and tag him, just to mess with his head."
Kate laughed. "You're horrible."
"I know," Sophia said proudly. "But I'm also right."
Kate leaned back, looking up at the ceiling again. Her voice was quiet, but certain.
"I think it's time I start making decisions for me."
Sophia hummed approvingly. "Good. That's the girl I know."
They sat in comfortable silence for a few seconds before Sophia added, "And Kate?"
"Yeah?"
"You've always been enough. You don't need to change to be worthy of something real. Just don't be afraid to show who you are."
Kate blinked slowly, the words settling in. "Thanks, Soph."
"Anytime."
***
The phone felt heavier in Kate's hand than usual as the call ended. The screen dimmed, and she stared at it for a moment, a calm determination settling over her. She had finally done it. After weeks of uncertainty, of questioning herself, she had taken control. It wasn't easy, but she knew it was the right thing.
With a deep breath, she dialed her agent's number.
The line barely rang before he picked up. His voice was professional, yet there was an unmistakable undercurrent of urgency. "Kate! I was just about to reach out. We've got some amazing news—"
"I want to pull out of any future contracts that involve me exposing myself—swimsuits, lingerie, underwear model shows. All of it," Kate interrupted, her voice clear, firm.
There was an immediate silence on the other end of the line. The kind of silence that filled the air with the weight of unspoken words.
She could almost hear the calculations running through his mind, the instant realization of what she had just said. After a long pause, he spoke again, more carefully this time.
"…Kate," he began, his voice lower, "you're on track to win People's Choice Sexiest Woman of the Year. This is a huge opportunity. Maybe even a Victoria's Secret deal in the future. Do you realize what that could mean for your career? This is your moment."
"I don't care about that anymore," Kate replied, her voice unwavering. She felt the words spill out with a quiet strength she hadn't known she possessed. "I'd rather be respected by people who matter than be fantasized about by people who don't."
Her agent let out a frustrated sigh, clearly trying to grasp what she was saying. "I get where you're coming from, Kate. I really do. But do you realize how much money is on the line here? The breach-of-contract fees alone… they're astronomical. You've worked too hard to get this far. You can't just walk away from that."
"I'll pay them," Kate said, cutting him off again. She wasn't going to let him talk her out of this. "You forget that my family is pretty well off. I'm not going to let a couple of numbers on a piece of paper decide my future."
Another long silence stretched between them.
Kate's fingers tightened around the phone as she waited for him to respond. She didn't know if he would be angry, frustrated, or just resigned. But she knew what she needed to do, and no amount of money, fame, or future potential was going to change that.
Then, finally, she heard the sound of a slow, incredulous laugh. It was soft, almost disbelieving. "You're actually serious?" he asked, as if he couldn't quite process it.
"Yes," Kate said, the word coming out as a simple statement of fact. She didn't feel the need to explain further. She had made up her mind, and that was all that mattered.
Her agent let out a long breath, and when he spoke again, his tone was quieter, less sure. "Alright. If this is what you really want, I'll make the calls. But you need to understand… you're turning down a lot of opportunities here. Opportunities that most people would kill for."
Kate's grip on the phone relaxed a little, her shoulders feeling lighter as the weight of the decision started to settle in. "I understand," she said softly. "But I'm done following a script. It's time to write my own."
There was a slight pause, and she could hear him on the other end, shifting, maybe sighing. "I'll get to work on it," he said, his voice resigned but understanding. "If that's truly what you want."
"Thank you," Kate said, and the words felt like a quiet release. She wasn't sure how he would handle her decision or what would come next, but in this moment, she knew she had done the right thing. The phone call ended, and she sat there for a while, letting the weight of the moment settle over her.
For the first time in a long time, she wasn't following someone else's plan. She was choosing her path, her future. The feeling of it, of finally taking control, was like breathing fresh air after holding her breath for too long.
She unlocked her phone again, her hands slightly trembling, but not with fear. There was something else now—something more like resolve. She had taken a big step, and now it was time to make another.
She scrolled to the messages app, and her thumb hovered over the screen for a few seconds before she opened the conversation with Adriano. His name was still there, waiting. She stared at it for a moment, her mind racing with words she wanted to say. Should she keep it simple? Or pour her heart out? She wasn't sure. But whatever it was, she knew it needed to be honest.
With a deep breath, she tapped the screen, and the message began to form.
"Hi Adriano, it's Kate. I watched your match and you were absolutely amazing."
Her fingers hovered over the screen as she thought about the next words. She could feel the weight of everything in the message—her decision, the change in her life, the chance to express something real. She had to be careful. She didn't want to overwhelm him, but she also wanted to let him know the impact he had on her.
"I have thought a lot about what you said," she continued, "and decided to follow your advice to change my career path. Although I'm not sure what the future holds, I'm glad I was able to do this, mostly thanks to you."
Her heart beat a little faster as she typed the final part. She felt vulnerable, unsure, but also excited.
"After the World Cup, I would like to invite you to come to Florida to my house for a visit. I want to personally thank you for your advice, and show you around, if you feel like it. Let me know if you can make it."
She stared at the message for a moment, her thumb hovering over the send button. She felt exposed, nervous. What if he didn't respond the way she hoped? What if he wasn't interested?
But then again, she had to take this step. For herself. She couldn't keep waiting for someone else to make the first move. She had made her decision, and now she needed to act on it.
With a deep breath, she tapped send. The message flew through the digital ether, and a rush of anticipation flooded her. She stared at the screen, waiting for the little dots that would indicate a reply, but they never came.
Instead, she closed the app and turned her attention to something else. She had already made her choice, and now she would let things unfold as they would.
But there was one more thing she had to do.
Kate opened her Instagram. The familiar glow of the app was almost too bright, and her heart fluttered as she scrolled through her feed. Her eyes landed on the posts she had been meaning to delete. The ones that represented the version of herself she was done with. The one that had been a product of the industry, of everyone else's expectations.
Her thumb moved slowly over the images, tapping to delete them one by one. As the photos disappeared, so did the feeling of being someone else's creation.
By the time she was done, the account felt different—cleaner, more aligned with who she was becoming. She didn't need to show her body to be valuable. She didn't need to be someone's fantasy to be worthy.
She took one last look at her feed, a sense of quiet satisfaction settling over her. This was it. The beginning of something new.
A message notification pinged on her phone, but she didn't check it immediately. She knew that whatever it was, it wasn't important right now. What mattered was what she had just done for herself.
And for the first time in a long time, Kate felt free.