Author's pov
Dave let out a long, heavy sigh after hearing my sincere words of gratitude.
"You really are a different person from the Aria of three years ago," he said, respect in his voice. "They say you can't judge a book by its cover, but you truly made me see you in a new light."
"Dave," I said evenly, "I have a feeling you didn't come all this way just to talk about old times. Let's be honest. I'm not one for nostalgia. Truth be told, I barely remember any of it anymore."
"Of course," he replied, his gaze meeting mine, his expression turning serious. "I don't want to bring up old memories either. I really don't. But Aria, whether we like it or not, I came here today to tell you one thing. You can't participate in next week's Paris Fashion Week gown competition."
"Why?
