Reclaimed By My Ex-husband
Chapter 93: The enigmatic designer

Chapter 93: The enigmatic designer

"Congratulations, Zara." A voice came from behind, halting the easy flow of conversation between Zara and Anne.

They both turned, curious, only to find a man with shoulder-length hair and gleaming eyes walking toward them. He didn’t look familiar, definitely not one of the designers Zara had met.

’Who is he?’ she wondered. ’And how did he know me?’

"Thank you," Zara replied warmly, though a flicker of confusion lingered in her gaze. "It means a lot that you noticed my work."

The man’s lips curved into a smirk. "Not just me. A lot of people have noticed." He stretched his hand toward her. "Hi...I’m Shay Walsh."

The moment he uttered his name, the room collectively stopped breathing. Gasps rippled across the space. Heads snapped in their direction. Murmurs swelled like a sudden wave crashing over a quiet shore.

Zara froze, the name ringing in her ears. Shay Walsh? The Shay Walsh?

"Oh my God!" Bree inhaled sharply, her hand flying to her chest.

She could hardly believe it—the man who had always stayed out of the spotlight, known for keeping a low profile, had shown up in person just to congratulate Zara.

Shay Walsh had risen to fame in the fashion world two years ago, even showcasing his work at the prestigious Paris Fashion Week. His designs quickly became the talk of the town. But he was always a mystery—never seen, never photographed, always working from the shadows. His assistant, his secretary, his team... they were his only public face. And now, here he was in person, standing in front of them, congratulating Zara.

The magnitude of the moment hit everyone like a lightning strike.

The other designers stared at her in stunned disbelief.

Bree, overcome by emotion, clutched Zara’s hand tightly without even realizing it. Her heart thudded wildly as she took in this surreal moment.

Zara managed to shake Shay’s hand, her mind still whirling.

"You are amazing," he said, with a lingering grin on his face. "Just as talented as ever."

"Thanks." She could only manage to utter the word. She was as stunned as Bree.

"You probably don’t remember me," he continued, casually pushing his fingers through his long hair. "But I never forgot you."

Zara blinked, confused. She couldn’t recall ever meeting him before.

"I..." she began, but he cut in gently.

"Five years ago, I was one of the participants in that fashion show. You won Best Designer. I was a nobody back then."

Gasps and whispers spread through the room like wildfire. No one had guessed that Zara, the quiet newcomer, had once taken home the top honor.

Bree’s jaw dropped. "Oh my God...You were in that competition!"

Shay nodded, never looking away from Zara. "You disappeared after that. I didn’t think someone as brilliant as you would just abandon your career like that when you were at peak."

Zara looked down for a moment. "That was my choice. I gave priority to my family."

He studied her for a beat. "Do you regret it?"

As their eyes met, Zara felt she had met him before, but she couldn’t remember where.

"No," she said calmly. "Back then, I chose my family. And now, I’m choosing myself."

"I’m glad you are back. Your collection—it’s brilliant. Finally, I have someone worth competing with."

And with that, he gave her a playful, dazzling grin and turned, striding out of the room.

Bree stood frozen, her mouth still agape, as she turned to her friend. "Zara, pinch me."

Zara gave her an amused look and rolled her eyes. "Stop being so dramatic," she said, already turning her back.

But Bree wasn’t letting it go. She hurried after her friend, nearly tripping in her excitement. "Are you even hearing yourself? That was Shay Walsh! He is practically a ghost in the industry—never shows up, never gives interviews. And tonight, he came just to you. Do you know what that means? He sees you as competition. I swear I’m going to pass out."

Zara shook her head. She began helping the stylists gather and fold the gowns the models had changed out of, slipping back into work mode as if nothing extraordinary had just happened.

Around them, whispers rippled through the room. Designers glanced at Zara with a mix of awe and disbelief, clearly stunned by the scene they had noticed. But not everyone was admiring. A woman standing near the rack scoffed, bitterness etched into her expression.

"You are so full of yourself. You should be grateful that someone like Shay even took notice of you. Instead, you walk around like you are above everyone else."

Bree’s cheerful glow instantly vanished. Her lips tightened into a sharp line, and she stepped forward, ready to retaliate. But Zara caught her wrist, holding her back.

"Let it go," Zara said quietly. "This isn’t worth it."

"But she—"

"Don’t pay her any mind," Zara interrupted. "We have work to finish. Come on, help me with these."

Bree hesitated, glaring at the woman for a moment longer before finally following Zara’s lead.

The woman snorted with contempt, crossing her arms across her chest. "What if you won the best designer award once? It’s history now. Time has moved on, and you are far behind us. Don’t expect to become successful overnight just because Shay Walsh congratulated you. You are just a housewife. Maybe she should stick to cooking and cleaning. Designing clothes isn’t a hobby you pick up between laundry loads."

The others snickered, their eyes flicking toward Zara with smug amusement.

Zara wanted to avoid the altercation, but the woman’s attitude was too much to stay quiet. "You know," she began, "it’s interesting how threatened you sound by a so-called housewife."

The room quieted slightly, the sting in her voice drawing attention.

She stepped closer, her gaze unwavering. "Yes, I spent five years taking care of my family. But don’t confuse that with weakness. Managing a home requires patience, creativity, discipline—skills that translate beautifully into design. The only difference is, I don’t need to tear other women down to prove my worth."

The woman opened her mouth to respond, but Zara’s gaze held her in place.

"You forget the runway goes two ways. Today, you are looking down at me. Tomorrow, it might be me walking past you at the top."

The silence fell into the room. Those who had chuckled earlier now shifted awkwardly. The woman who had mocked her blinked, visibly rattled, speechless. Twisting her mouth and clenching her fists, she stomped away.

The others stepped back and focused on their job.