The Call
The email came at dawn.
Subject: Executive Transition - Private Discussion
From: Aanya Mehra
"Meet me at Elysian House. 10 AM. The Board and I have a proposal to discuss. I trust you'll come prepared."
No other details.
Iraaya stared at the words, heart hammering. She could feel the weight behind them, the culmination of years, of triumphs and falls.
She rose slowly from bed, eyes tracing the pale light of morning that spilled across her studio apartment.
On one wall hung her latest designs: bold, raw, unapologetically her. The new Prism line had been launched to thunderous acclaim. Orders poured in from Paris to Mumbai. Her mentorship program was thriving, young designers from villages and inner cities found space to grow in her wing at Elysian.
But this... this was something else.
She brushed her fingers over the worn edge of Manaly's sketchbook on the shelf.
"Walk steady, my love."
She smiled faintly.
"I will."
The Meeting
The Boardroom at Elysian was grand, a cathedral of glass and chrome. Men and women in suits, eyes sharp as blades, lined the long table.
And at its head sat Aanya.
She rose when Iraaya entered, and for a moment, her gaze softened.
"You've built something none of us dared," Aanya said.
The Board murmured in agreement.
One member spoke. "Under your leadership, Prism is not just a brand. It is a movement. You've doubled revenue, shattered engagement records, and, more importantly, brought heart back to this house."
Another added, "In a time when trust in Elysian wavered, it is your vision that brought loyalty roaring back."
Aanya's voice followed:
"The current CEO is retiring in two months. The Board's unanimous vote: We want you, Iraaya, to step forward, as the next CEO of Elysian House."
The words fell like stars.
Iraaya's breath caught. The room blurred for a heartbeat. CEO.
A Jhirkala girl. A shelter resident. A thread that almost broke.
Now to lead the grandest fashion house in the world.
"I... I am honored," she said carefully.
"But I must lead on my terms. Not as a puppet. Not as a token."
Aanya smiled. "We would expect nothing less."
The Vision
In the weeks that followed, the transition began.
Iraaya moved into a sleek new office, all glass and steel, yet she softened it with textiles and warmth. A Kantha quilt from Jhirkala hung behind her chair.
Her first move as incoming CEO? Announce the formation of the Aurora Fellowship, a global program for underrepresented fashion talent, with scholarships, residencies, and mentorship.
Applications poured in. Within weeks, 500 fellows were selected across 20 countries.
Next, she held town halls with every division. She stood before the entire staff, voice steady:
"Elysian drapes must no longer be a tower of glass. It must be a loom, weaving many hands, many stories."
Applause echoed through the halls.
The press called it a never ending revolution.
The Doubters
But not everyone cheered.
Old-guard designers grumbled.
Corporate investors worried.
"She's too young."
"She's too emotional."
"She'll ruin Elysian drapes's prestige."
Iraaya faced it head-on.
In her first Board address as CEO, she said:
"We will not erase the past. But we will not be shackled by it. Fashion belongs to the future. To those whose voices have yet to be heard."
And then, with a small smile:
"Trust me, they know how to stitch history too."
The Expansion
Under her leadership, Elysian expanded into new realms.
• A Sustainable Line garments made with recycled silks and organic dyes.
• Virtual Showrooms - opening luxury to clients worldwide.
• Global Craft Collabs - partnering with artisans from India, Africa, and Latin America.
Sales soared.
More importantly, respect soared.
Designers once marginalized now led major campaigns. Women from shelters, from villages, stood on runways in her collections.
And the press changed its tone:
"Jhirkala's Daughter Rewrites Fashion's Future."
One rain-swept afternoon, she returned to amma's shop.
At Panna Tailors, Amma embraced her hard.
"You've built a palace with your own hands," Amma whispered.
"But never forget, thread by thread, heart by heart." Teaching
Iraaya began teaching.
She hosted free masterclasses at Elysian.
She filmed online lessons, watched by billions.
"You do not need privilege to create beauty," she told them.
"You need courage. You need story."
Students cried. Parents sent letters of thanks.
Designers from Paris and Milan asked to study with her.
She smiled. And taught more.
The Dream
Late one night, she stood alone in the Elysian Atelier.
Manaly's sketchbook sat open on her desk.
"I did it," she whispered."But I'm not done."
Her gaze swept the atelier, now humming with life.
From a homeless girl stitching scraps...
To the CEO of the most storied house in fashion.
And still becoming.
She closed her eyes.
She smiled through tears.
"Thank you, Manaly," she whispered. "For every thread."
Epilogue
In the years that followed, Elysian soared higher.
Iraaya's legacy reshaped the industry.
Students, artisans, and designers carried her vision worldwide.
At awards shows, they spoke of her.
"I learned from Iraaya."
"She showed us we belonged."
And every night, beneath her apartment's soft lights, she still stitched.
Not for fame. Not for power.
For the joy of the thread.
For the girl who once dreamed under Jhirkala's stars.
One night, she sat back on her bed reflecting on her life, and falls asleep thinking how far she've come.
That same night, Manaly appears in her dream, wet eyes but sense of pride sparkling through them she says "I am proud of you my love."
THE END