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That’s it.

Simple.

I'll change, I’ll walk back out like nothing happened, and this entire insane idea will disappear before it has the chance to become a public humiliation.

Decision made, I push myself away from the sink, bending down to grab the metallic heels I hadn’t dared to put on yet, my fingers curling around the thin straps as relief starts to settle in.

It’s over.

I won’t do it.

But just as I straighten slightly, ready to reach for my bag, the bathroom door creaks open.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere, Thalia.”

Irina’s voice cuts cleanly through the silence, sharp, controlled, leaving no space to pretend I didn’t hear her as she steps fully inside, her gaze dropping immediately to the shoes in my hands.

“Move. It’s almost over.”

“I…” The word barely forms before she’s already crossing the distance between us, her heels striking the floor with purpose as she reaches me, her hand closing around the stilettos and pulling them from my grip with effortless authority.

She inspects them for half a second, a faint, approving smirk tugging at her lips.

“Nice taste.”

Then she presses them back into my hands.

“Now put them on. I’m not walking out of here without you.”

My throat feels dry, tight, my heartbeat so fast it almost hurts, but I force myself to inhale, then exhale, nodding.

“Okay, fine,” I mutter, frustration slipping through my voice. “I don’t get why everyone’s pushing me into this. I’m not even a Hartho employee.”

Irina lets out a low, almost amused laugh, her eyes glinting as she tips her head.

“And yet you’ve got a costume ready.”

I don’t have time to respond, because her fingers close firmly around my wrist, cool and unyielding, pulling me forward.

“Come on.”

That isn’t a suggestion. It’s a command.

And before I can even consider resisting, she’s already dragging me out of the bathroom, back into the noise, the music hitting me full force again as we move through the crowd, people parting to let us pass.

By the time we reach backstage, my pulse is racing for an entirely different reason.

She only lets go of me when we stop near the line of women waiting for their turn.

There are still three contestants ahead.

Three. Damn it.

If I had locked that door, if I had just…

“You look amazing, you know,” Irina leans closer, her voice dropping into a soft whisper meant only for me, her lips curving faintly. “A real-life pornstar Barbie.”

And just like that, she’s gone again, disappearing into the crowd as if she was never there, leaving her words hanging in the air like a brand I can’t shake off.