[dynamic535]

-.-.-.-.-ClashingLights-.-.-.-.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

♡- Pairing : Paige bueckers and Azzi fudd

♡- Theme : Model!Azzi x Wnba!Paige

♡- Type of romance: Strangers to lovers, Singlemom!P, Smut, somewhat a slow burn.

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♡ - Summary

Two high-earning, powerful women at the absolute peak of their respective industries find a quiet, grounding sanctuary in each other—only to realize that combining their massive public worlds threatens to destroy the very peace they are desperate to protect.

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♡- Details:

I plan on making this 16 Chapters long, and I will try to post twice a week. Each Chapter will be around 2000 words and 3000 at most. This is also my first fanfic ever.

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[pbaz7]

that foul is such bullshit bro

you can’t call that at the end of a game like this

[dynamic535]

I can’t even explain what I’m feeling after that damn foul. Dallas Wings will give me a heart attack one of these days. I still love em tho !!

[dynamic535]

Clashing lights

( chapter 2 )

A/N, let's dive into Azzi's mind. I hope you guys love it. Also, I post 2x a week, so see you next week.

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Azzi POV

I had spent my entire life mastering the art of entering a room. Don't get me wrong, I love my job. It's always been my childhood dream.I always saw myself walking down the runway, smiling before the cameras, having my name on billboards, and inspiring others to pursue their own dreams. With all this comes a price because despite being known by so many, I've never felt this lonely.

The irony of being famous was that everyone assumed the hardest part was simply being noticed. Unfortunately, they were wrong. The hardest part was getting noticed by the wrong people and the wrong audience.

The Afterparty was exactly how I imagined it. It was filled with beautiful people, clothes, and lies. to simplify it, everyone knew everyone’s name, yet almost nobody knew anything real about anyone or even had the intention of knowing them. They always have an agenda.

Exhibit A: A designer complimented my dress for a full ten minutes straight, calling me the “future of fashion, “ but not once did she ask me if I liked it or my opinion on the dress. Not to mention, immediately after she left me, she repeated the same statement to another woman in power.

Exhibit B: After 20 minutes of being photographed, I began to walk to the end of the carpet, only to be stopped by a photographer who asked me to smile brighter since my smile appeared too dull in his camera.

I almost laughed at his request because apparently, there was a ” right way” to smile. I took the photo and walked away. It's sad to see how the industry has involved. Even happiness had become something people wanted to direct.

I found myself hanging on the outer edges of the room, gripping the class and using it as a decoy to discourage people from offering me any drinks because I'm picky yet hate turning people down.

Conversations were coming left and right, all directed toward me. Tonight, everyone wanted a piece of Azzi. All conversations led to me doing them a favour. It always ended in a request. To them, I was the person who could increase their sales, image, or label.

I was finishing up my last conversation because after this one, I'm leaving. I was getting tired of all the repeating conversation. My heels were forming a blister, my soles hurt, and I just needed some fresh air. I start walking toward the door that leads outside.

“Leaving already?”

I turned to the familiar voice. “I’ve been here for hours,” I told Sydney, my manager. She glanced around the room like she was trying to see who I had and hadn't talked to. “You’ve barely spoken to anyone.”

“Oh, trust me, I've spoken to enough. Syd, all the conversation led to the same thing. I'm done for tonight, “I told her. “If I spend one more hour in this room, I'm gonna book a surgery for an ear replacement because my ears aren't surviving this anymore, “I added to really deepen my point.

“Azzi.” She sighed. She's using that tone, says she, about to remind me about all my commitments and responsibilities, “ You know tonight matters, it's your party, and it's for your image. “

Too bad for her because I'm leaving this function, and I'll do whatever it takes to do so. “ Sydney, they all matter, every event matters, but right now my legs are hurting, my heel is probably bleeding, and I'm in need of some fresh air“

She knew better than to argue with me on this, so she let it go. Her expression softened. “ Fine, Azzi, I'm gonna tell people that you've left and that they can speak to you another time. You owe me after this one, “ I smiled at her response, “ Thank you so much, Syd, but no promises on that “

I hugged and kissed her on the cheek. Sydney is one of the only people who truly understands me. She has been with me since my first runway. Despite this, she's more of a co-worker than a friend. She runs a strict program, always prioritizing her job over our friendship. Nevertheless, she's one of the very few I trust.

==================================================

The moment I stepped outside, I could breathe again. I felt the cold air kiss my skin and the wind roughen up my hair. And finally, for the first time all night, I could finally breathe.

I hopped into the SUV I requested and headed towards the private dock. One of the first things I bought when my career finally took off was my custom black speed vessel. It's my favourite escape and my form of freedom.

I reached my destination, I waved goodbye to my driver, and started walking toward my dock where my speedboat rested. I got it because it's sleek, silent, and efficient. Since I like to think of the future its very timeless and could fit in any era.

I stepped inside, started the engine, and let the city vanish behind me. The water was crystal clear. Every building’s light mirrored perfectly, creating a second city beneath me.

The boat surged forward. The wind tugged at my hair. I felt the breeze on my skin. I haven't felt this carefree in the longest time. My whole mind felt at peace. Every worry slipping out of it.

Midnight transformed the private marina. Everyone loved suing thier boats in the morning because of how beautiful and fun the Marine can be. Not a lot of people know that by night, the Marine is magical and peaceful. Honestly, I believe that the water is more fun during nighttime that morning.

The docks were nearly empty when I approached, except for a few vessels around. A thin layer of fog hovered above the water, making the place feel truly magical. This place felt hidden and safe. I slowed as I neared my slip. The silence was exactly what I needed. Until I noticed the yacht beside mine.

I paused. It wasn't the yacht that surprised me, but the person who stood on it. It was Paige.

She looked different from earlier. She looks calmer and more at ease compared to the exhibition. Oddly, I haven't seen her here before. Shes standing at the bow of her boat. Her hand was resting on the railing, with her body wrapped in a WNBA hoodie and a matching set. She looks way more human and honestly way hotter in this state.

I find it interesting because the intimidating WNBA superstar everyone gossiped about looked like someone who's exhausted and desperately needs a break. That's a look I know all too well.

Suddenly the quiet harbour exploded with a tiny voice. “Mommy!” I looked up. A small face peeked over the yacht’s chrome railing. Hazel. The little girl with messy curls and bright eyes. she stood on tiptoes. Pointing straight at my boat.

“Mommy, look!”

Paige turned immediately. The moment she saw Hazel leaning over the railing, her entire body shifted. “Hazel, baby, step back.” Her voice was firm. Hazel obeyed and took a step back, still pointing at my boat. “The pretty dress lady has a Batman boat!”

I froze, then exploded in laughter. Gosh, Hazel reminded me so much of myself when I was younger. Paige looked embarrassed. Her hand rubbing her face. “I apologize.” I crossed my arms on the boat’s side. “For what?”

“She says whatever she thinks.”

I smiled. “I noticed.” This mother-daughter duo is cute. I honestly find them very amusing. Paige looked at my boat. “Batman boat?” I looked at the sleek black vessel. “It’s supposed to be intimidating and timeless.” I chuckled because that was what was in my head when I got it customized

She stared at me like I had a bird nest on my head, which wouldn't be far off since the wind totally destroyed my hair. “You named your boat after Batman?”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Of course not, it just has the energy of it,” Paige smirked at my remarks. It was a small one, but she's a tough crowd, so I consider it a win. Paige leaned against the railing of her yacht with her eyes fixed on me. Her gaze was different because she wasn't checking me out; instead, she was trying to read me, if that was even possible. I didn't mind it, though.

“You always escape parties by driving a boat into the middle of the night?” she asked. “You always interrogate strangers at midnight?” Her eyes scanned the quiet harbour. “You’re the one docked next to me.” I chuckled at her response. She is very slick with her response. “Fair point.” A soft laugh escaped her as well.

I’d spent years surrounded by people who performed every emotion they showed. Paige didn’t seem to know how. Everything about her was honest. Even when she tried not to be.

“So,” she said, glancing back at my boat, “what exactly makes it a Batman boat?”

I traced the sleek black surface with my eyes. “The colour, I mean, it was your daughter's idea”

“That’s your reasoning?”

“Yes.”

She shook her head. “That’s not a very strong argument.” I smiled at her comment, “I’m a model, not a boat designer.”

“Good to know,” Paige says in a sarcastic voice. I haven't smiled or laughed this much since my birthday, which was well over 10 months ago. “You’re surprisingly funny. I haven't laughed this much for a long time.” Her eyebrows rose, almost looking offended. “Surprisingly?” I nod. “People usually say you’re intimidating.” Paige chuckles “I mean, they’re not wrong.”

Her confidence made me laugh once again. She didn’t try to deny it; she simply embraced it. I should start taking notes on her confidence for myself.

For a few minutes, we just stood there. The cold, calm air around makes me feel chilly. While most people hated the silence around me, since they were so quick to fill it. Paige didn't mind it, and that felt good.

“You looked different tonight.” Paige looked over once she heard my voice. “Different? is that a good thing or nah?” I gave her a soft look. “At the exhibition, you looked intimidating and cold, but right now...“

Her expression shifted just enough. “And now?” I met her gaze, admiring the way her ocean-like eyes. “Now you look tired.” she met gaze. “you always this honest.” I smiled. “I try.”

“Most people don’t,” she says, chuckling to herself. I leaned against my boat since my legs were starting to get numb. “Most people tell you what they think you want to hear.” Paige glanced back. “You can say that again.” We both laughed at that statement because, honestly, she was right.

Neither of us spoke for a moment. She understood. Maybe better than most. Being famous meant constantly sorting the genuine from the performative.

“Mommy.” Hazel’s voice broke the silence again. We both looked up. She was sitting on the yacht’s deck now, staring at me. “Can she come over?” Paige immediately looked at her. “Hazel.”

“What?”

“You can’t just invite people onto the boat.”

“But she’s nice.”

The duo went back and forth. It was honestly very funny to watch. Hazel would make a celebrity one day. Her charm is just like her mom's. I looked at Paige with a chuckle and she returned it with a smile.

“You see my problem?” Paige asked. “She’s very convincing.” I laughed “She gets that from me.” Paige said always confidently.

“Really?”

“No.”

The answer came so quickly I laughed again, and this time Paige joined in too. Her laugh transformed her entire face in a good way; it's very contagious. I can see why people loved watching her play. Her energy can change a room for good or bad.

The space between our boats was small. A narrow gap over dark water. Normally, I’d think twice. Consider my clothes and my shoes, but honestly, I was too tired to be afraid. I stepped carefully across. The second my heels touched the wooden deck, I felt how different it was.

I looked down at Hazel. And just like before, the world slipped away. I knelt down. Hazel smiled instantly. “You came!” It always felt good when people asked for you. “I did.” She looked proud. Like she’d accomplished something.

My eyes dropped to her shoes. The red ballet flats. Up close, I noticed tiny scuffs along the toes. Slightly worn edges. Those were proof that they were loved.

“These have been through a lot,” I said. Hazel looked down. “My favourite shoes,” she wiggled her shoes at me “I can tell.” She nodded seriously. “They’re fast.” I looked up. “Fast?” she nodded “Yes.”

“Ballet flats are fast?”

“When I run.”

I glanced at Paige with a question mark “I stopped questioning her logic years ago.” Paige answered “That’s probably smart.” Hazel smiled. She liked that answer.

The three of us sat outside under the yacht’s warm amber lights. I don’t know exactly when it happened. When the conversation stopped feeling like strangers talking. Nothing felt forced. We talked about everything that came to mind.

Hazel sat between us, sharing stories marked “classified.” “Mommy lets me have cookies.” Paige looked offended. “I do not.” Hazel turned sharply. “You do.”

“Sometimes.”

“One time.”

“Exactly.”

I looked at Paige.

“One time?”

She crossed her arms. Hazel and Paige bickered some more till Paige accepted defeat and agreed with Hazel. “Okay, more than one time.” Hazel smiled proudly. She knows she has Paige wrapped around her fingers.

They are so much alike. Hazel is like a mini Paige, and to be honest, she might be the better version of the two. I laughed at their bickering, and Paige shook her head. “You’re supposed to be on my side.” I wiped the joyful tears that welled up in my eyes. “I just met you.”

“Wow.”

“I’m honest.”

She looked amused.

“I noticed.”

And that was the strange part. I’d spent the night surrounded by people trying to impress me, to gain something, or to be remembered. But sitting on their yacht, listening to a 4-year-old tell stories and bicker with her mother somehow accomplished everyone's agenda tonight.

I glanced at the time. 1:45 AM. I didn't bring any spare clothes or anything for that matter to spend the night on my vessel. Meaning it would be around 2:30 by the time I reached home. Thinking about it already makes me feel exhausted.

“I should go.”

Paige’s eyebrows knitted together. “Go where?” I nodded toward my boat. “Home.” A pause. Paige looked at me, trying to see if i was kidding or not. “You’re taking that thing back right now?” I smiled. “My house isn’t that far.”

She looked me over with her eye, looking me up and down with concern, not lust. “You’re wearing a gown that's wet halfway through”

“I noticed.”

“And you’re exhausted.”

“I’m fine.”

Paige gave me a look. The kind that said she absolutely didn’t believe me. “You model people are terrible at admitting when you’re tired.” I laughed. “Model people?” She wasn't wrong, though “You know what I mean.” I sighed, “ I do. Acting isn't my greatest talent. Walking is ”

I stepped toward my vessel. The engine hummed softly, filling the quiet harbour. i paused when i heard Paige call my name and turned to face her.

Paige stood there with Hazel snug to her shoulder. The sight was truly heart-warming. It's the type of love and care I can only wish for myself. “You can stay here.” I blinked. “What?” I wasn't sure if I heard her right, “My yacht. You’re tired. It’s late. You don’t have clothes. You don’t need to drive across the water half asleep.” Surprise flickered across my face. “You’re offering your yacht to a stranger?” She looked at me.

“You’re not exactly a stranger anymore.” That sentence hit harder than it should. Because I realized something. Paige didn’t say it flirtatiously. She said it like a fact. Then she added, “I have clothes that you can wear.” I raised an eyebrow. “You have clothes for a 5'10 supermodel?” She laughed at my statement,” You’re probably going to swim in them. We ain't far off, Fudd, I'm only 6'1 ”. The blonde girl bragged, “I have hoodies and sweats. It's not a big deal”

I never felt so grateful in my whole damn life. Someone offered me a place where I didn’t have to perform. I really hit the jackpot here. Not only do I not have to drive home, but I also get to spend the night in Paige's proximity and get some much needed sleep.

Paige walked me into the guest room and handed me my clothes. We said our goodnights, and she left. It was a fast interaction. I looked around the room. It looks like it hasn't been touched for months, but I couldn't care less about that right now. My legs were numb, and my back is sore.

I changed into Paige’s oversized hoodie. It smelled faintly like her. I hate how I notice details like that. If I'm being honest, I'm a lover girl at heart, but every time love always disappoints.

I lay down in the quiet room of the yacht. My back relaxed, and the water rocked the boat gently and my last thought before sleep claimed me:

This felt like a home

[dynamic535]

Clashing Lights

( Chapter 1 )

A/N, first project, and i hope you guys love it !!!!! I’ve never written any story especially not a fanfic so pls be gentle.

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Paige POV

The first sound that pierced the quiet morning was Hazel singing. Not softly like I wished. It was bold and loud

I opened my eyes to the fearless voice of a four-year-old, belting out a song she’d probably heard only once but already claimed as her own, mangling the lyrics with such confidence it was impossible not to smile.

The ceiling above me was familiar. The sunlight slipping through the curtains was familiar. The tiny hand wrapped tightly around my arm, as if I might vanish if she let go, was familiar. I liked it this way. This was the only place where I didn’t feel like everyone was watching.

Not Paige Bueckers. Not the Dallas Wings star. Not the face on billboards and magazine covers.

Basketball is one of the best things that has happened to me, along with Hazel. Basketball gave me friendships, exposure, relationships, and a brand. It's given me everything. I mean, what's better than getting paid to do a job you enjoy?

The downside is that being an athlete comes with disappointment from yourself and fans. People are constantly looking for a signature. Media always trying to make a headline over a stupid statement. It was fine before, but now that I have a kid, it's not all fun and jokes anymore. Hazel is always my priority.

“Mommy?” I opened one eye. Hazel leaned over me, curls a wild mess from sleep, wearing dinosaur pyjamas but looking way too serious for it. “Yeah?” I rub my eyes, tryna get my vision aligned. “Are you awake?” I stared. “Hazel.” Hazel connected her eyes with mine. “What?” is this girl being serious right now “You just asked if I was awake... while I was answering you.”

She paused, then grinned. “Oh. I didn't even notice that mommy.” I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. That was Hazel. Four years old and somehow already able to erase every stressful thought the moment she walked into the room.

She climbed onto the bed and made herself comfortable right away, sprawled across my stomach like she owned the place. Technically, she didn’t, but she sure acted like it. “Big day,” she announced. I raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

She sat up. “Because we’re going to the fancy art place.” She speaks with enthusiasm, “The fashion and art exhibition.” I clarified “Yeah. The fancy art place. I nodded. “Right.” Hazel narrowed her eyes. “You have to wear your fancy clothes.”

“I was planning on it.”

“And I get to wear mine.”

“That was your idea.”

“I know.”

She said it like I should already know.

I watched her run to her closet, unaware she was the only one who could boss me around and get away with it. Most saw me as an intimidating athlete, the competitor, the woman who performed under pressure without blinking.

Hazel saw none of that. Mainly because she never saw that side of me regularly. To her, I was the one who made animal-shaped pancakes, checked for monsters under the bed, sang bedtime songs badly, and always came home.

And honestly? That mattered most.

==================================================

By the time we were ready to leave, I’d already received six emails, three texts from my agent, and a reminder from the Wings about “maintaining a positive public presence.”

Which meant: Smile. Be charming. Don’t cause trouble.

I understood. Being a pro athlete meant every moment could be a headline. A bad game sparked debate. A look became an attitude. A private opinion turned into controversy. Unfortunately, being a star player only made things worse. I’d spent years learning control. But events like this were different.

Basketball was simple. The court didn’t care who your parents were, your money, or your followers. You either performed or didn’t. The scoreboard never lied.

These events were different. Everyone smiled, complimented, and acted happy. But everyone was watching everyone.

I hated that. Not because I thought I was better—I wasn’t. I just knew how it felt to be seen as the version they created: the athlete, the success, the contracts, the trophies.

They didn’t see the woman who sometimes ate standing because she was too tired to sit, the mom who packed extra snacks for Hazel’s changing mind, or the person behind the name.

“Mommy.”

I looked down. Hazel stood there in her outfit—miniature velvet blazer, serious face, confidence. The only thing breaking the image? Bright red ballet flats. Completely her.

I wore black for practicality. Hazel wore red because every outfit needed “something happy.”

She looked up. “Do I look fancy?”

I crouched to fix her blazer. “You look beautiful.”

She smiled. “Like you?”

I paused. Hazel never understood why people felt awkward receiving compliments. She gave them freely.

“No,” I said softly. “Better than me.”

She seemed satisfied. And honestly, it was true.

====================================

The exhibition was exactly what I expected. It was beautiful,expensive,and overwhelming. The kind of environment anyone would ether shine or die .

The building seemed designed to remind everyone money existed. Marble floors gleamed under hundreds of camera flashes. Massive artworks covered the walls. Designers, executives, celebrities, and athletes wore clothes worth more than some cars.

From the moment I stepped in, I felt the attention. I was used to it, but that didn’t mean I liked it.

“Paige!”

The first camera flashed before I’d taken ten steps. Then another. And another. “ look here!“ another one yelled

I gave the smile I’d mastered, the friendly and professional, just right personality. That's what UConn media training will do to ya.

A reporter approached me, “Paige, how does it feel being one of the biggest names in basketball right now?” I nodded politely. “I’m grateful for the opportunity.” The reporter looked at Hazel. “Who's the little guest? “I tightened my hold on Hazel, My daughter.” The reporter smiled. “She’s adorable. She looks just like you,” Hazel waved. “Thank you.”

I almost laughed. She had no idea what she was thanking them for—only that adults liked politeness. We moved further inside. I kept Hazel close, not because I feared something bad, but because people forgot she was a child.

To some, she was just another detail in the Book of Bueckers, a cute addition, but she wasn't. Hazel is her own book; she's the sequel to my story, and I would protect her from anything, even a room full of people who thought they knew me.

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I noticed him before he approached. That was usually how it worked. People thought they were subtle. They weren’t.

The sports executive standing near the entrance had been watching us for several minutes. Not me but Hazel.

My expression didn’t change, but I remembered his face. Years of being around media had taught me one thing: pay attention. People always show you who they are before they say it out loud. And unfortunately, he was about to prove me right.

The executive waited until I was alone enough to approach. That was the kind of person he was. Someone who knew exactly when a conversation would look less embarrassing for him.

He walked over with a smile that never reached his eyes. “Paige.” I turned. “Hello.” He extended his hand. I shook it because that was what you did in rooms like this. If it was up to me id leave him hanging. “Congratulations on everything you’ve accomplished,” he said. “The Wings are lucky to have someone with your level of influence.”

There it was. The compliment before the request. I gave him a small nod. “Thank you.” His eyes moved past me. To Hazel. The smile changed to something more subtle. “And this must be your daughter.” Hazel looked up at him. “Hi.” He looked back at me. “I wasn’t aware children were attending tonight.”

The words were polite. The tone wasn’t. My shoulders tightened slightly. “She’s with me.” He changed his stance and put a hand on his hips “I understand that.” He glanced around the room. “It’s just that these events are designed to maintain a certain atmosphere.” I stared at him. “What atmosphere?”

He hesitated. People always hesitated when they had to explain what they really meant. “The sponsors, the executives, the artists… it’s a very professional environment.”

I looked down at Hazel. She was holding onto my jacket sleeve, completely unaware someone was making her feel like she didn’t belong.

That was the part that bothered me. Because Hazel was four. She didn’t know about reputation. Status. Or that some people thought they were more important than others, and someone was looking at her like she was a problem.

She only knew she’d spent an hour picking out her red ballet flats because they made her look like a princess.

“I’m sorry,” I said. The executive relaxed slightly, probably thinking he’d won. He shouldn’t have. I wasn't gonna let him go so easily. “I’m sorry,” I repeated, “that you believe a child being here affects the quality of this room.”

His smile disappeared. The air shifted. Someone might as well give me my flowers. I wasn’t yelling. I wasn’t causing a scene. Although I didn’t need to. My entire career had been built on discipline. On control. On knowing exactly when to push and when to stop. But there was a line on of limits. Everyone has one. Mine was Hazel and bad refs.

“Paige,” he said quietly, lowering his voice. “I think you’re misunderstanding me.” I took a step towards him “No.” I looked directly at him. “I think I understand you perfectly.” The minion is looking at me like I’m still wrong.

For a moment, neither of us moved. The vibe started to shift. I could hear people chatting in the background but everyone always notices when tension has entered the room.

The executive looked uncomfortable now. Good. Because I was done making myself smaller to make others comfortable. “Perhaps security could—”

“Could what?” A voice interrupted. Calm. Smooth. Confident. The executive stopped. So did I. I turned and for the first time that night, I forgot about the cameras.

The woman walking toward us looked like she belonged in a completely different world—not because she was trying to, but because everyone else moved around her without realizing they were making space.

She wasn’t rushing or searching for attention. Attention found her. Her dress was impossible to miss. It was elegant, expensive, more like a piece of art than clothing.

But the first thing I noticed wasn’t the dress. It was her expression: calm. Not nervous, impressed, or intimidated—just calm.

That was rare, especially here, where everyone is always trying to compare and compete with each other. It’s honestly so exhausting. I recognized her a second later. Azzi. The model who seemed to appear everywhere without trying to be seen.

I’d seen her on magazine covers, advertisements, social media—usually surrounded by people, usually smiling, but this was different. There was something sharper underneath, something I hadn’t expected.

She stopped between me and the executive—not dramatically, not like she was trying to make a statement, just enough to form a barrier.

The executive immediately shifted his posture. Interesting. “You were saying?” Azzi asked softly, her voice making it worse. He cleared his throat. “This is a misunderstanding.”

Azzi smiled—a beautiful, dangerous smile. Her presence is so vibrant, and she does it so effortlessly “I’m sure you believe that.”

The room went quiet. She looked at him like she was reading a document she already understood with fire in her eyes. “I would suggest,” she continued, “that before you decide who belongs in a room, you consider who built the room you’re standing in.”

His face tightened. “I don’t think you understand the situation. i was just sayin-” Azzi interupped him “No,” she said after a pause. “I understand it very well.”

She glanced briefly at Hazel, then back at him. “You saw a child and decided she was inconvenient.” He opened his mouth, but she didn’t let him speak. “That’s an interesting choice, considering your company’s entire public image is built around supporting athletes and families.”

The confidence in her voice was different from mine. Mine came from experience; hers came from power. She wasn’t threatening him. She was reminding him that she didn’t need to.

“I would hate for tomorrow’s headlines to be about how one of your executives treated a player’s child at a charity event.” The executive’s expression changed because he understood.

She wasn’t just famous—she had influence. The kind that makes people reconsider their decisions. “I think we’re done here,” Azzi said politely. Somehow, the polite tone made it final.

The executive left with no argument or comment. He simply just left. Which is a shock. I had to make a mental note to never mess with Azzi. Maybe she should teach me a few tricks. I bet I can use this method for refs.

I watched him disappear into the crowd, then looked at the woman standing beside me—Azzi. For the first time all night, I didn’t know what to say. And I hated that. I was good with people. I knew how to do interviews confidently, negotiate smartly, and how to handle pressure. But this woman had walked into a situation she had nothing to do with and completely changed it.

“Thank you,” I finally said. She looked at me, and for a moment, I expected the polished celebrity smile everyone got. Instead, her eyes softened. “It wasn’t anything.”

It was. She just didn’t think so. Before I could respond, Hazel tugged gently on my jacket. “Mommy.” I looked down. “What?”

Hazel was staring at Azzi very seriously.

The tension that had filled the room disappeared completely. Hazel had that effect.

She looked at Azzi’s dress, then at her own shoes, then back at Azzi.

Her eyes widened.

“Your dress matches my shoes.”

Azzi looked down and for the first time since she walked over, she looked surprised.

Hazel lifted one foot, showing off her bright red ballet flat.

Azzi laughed softly—a real laugh, not the kind people gave for cameras.

“You’re right.”

Hazel nodded.

“I picked them.”

“I can tell.”

Hazel smiled, then without hesitation added, “You’re really pretty.”

Something changed.

The woman who had just controlled an entire room without raising her voice disappeared.

Azzi’s expression softened completely. She looked at Hazel like she was the only person there.

Then, without caring about the expensive dress she was wearing or the marble floor beneath her, she lowered herself down until they were eye level. “ well I think you even more pretty “

I had seen people perform kindness before. That was one of the things I hated most about rooms like this.

Everything had a purpose. Every smile. Every compliment. Every handshake.

People were always aware of who was watching, but Azzi didn’t look like she was performing. She didn’t look around to see if anyone noticed. She didn’t care about the cameras.

She just cared about Hazel.

And somehow, that caught me off guard more than anything else she had done.

“What’s your name? ” Azzi said softly.

Hazel tilted her head.

“Hazel”

Azzi smiled.

“That’s a beautiful name.”

“I know.”

I looked away quickly so Azzi wouldn’t see me trying not to laugh.

That was Hazel. No hesitation. No filter. No understanding that sometimes people softened their words to be polite. She believed everything she said.

Azzi seemed to love that.

“I like your flats,” Azzi told her.

Hazel looked down proudly.

“They are very soft and comfy when I run.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

She leaned closer like she was sharing a secret.

“But Mommy says I can’t run inside.”

Azzi glanced up at me.

A small smile tugged at her lips. Connecting her eyes with mine

“She sounds very responsible.”

I crossed my arms.

“Someone has to be.”

Hazel immediately pointed at me.

“Mommy is serious. Sometimes”

Azzi laughed.

And I hated that I noticed how different she looked when she did. The woman who had been standing across from an executive, completely untouchable, suddenly looked warm.

Real.

Like the person everyone else saw was only one version of her.

Interesting.

I wasn’t used to people having layers. Most people showed you exactly what they wanted you to see. Azzi seemed different.

“Can I ask you something?” Hazel asked.

Azzi nodded.

“Of course.”

“Are you a princess?”

The question caught Azzi off guard. Her eyes widened slightly. Then she smiled.

“No.”

Hazel looked confused.

“But you’re wearing a pretty dress.”

I glanced away.

Because somehow that made perfect sense. Azzi looked down at her dress. Then back at Hazel.

“Well, maybe for tonight.”

Hazel nodded, satisfied.

“Okay.”

A quiet moment settled between them.

Just minutes ago, I was ready to walk out of this event, surrounded by people who cared more about appearances than people.

And now I was standing there watching a woman in a designer gown sit on a marble floor and talk to my daughter about shoes.

Maybe I had been wrong. Not about everyone. Definitely not everyone. But maybe about her.

“Azzi?”

The voice came from behind us. The softness disappeared instantly. Not completely. But enough. A woman with a headset and a tablet approached quickly, followed by two security guards.

Her expression was the kind I recognized.

stress.

The kind that comes from trying to keep a schedule together.

“Your ribbon-cutting starts in two minutes.”

Azzi blinked.

For a second, she looked like she forgot the entire world existed outside of Hazel. Then she looked back at the woman.

“Right.”

The professional version returned. It was subtle, but I noticed. The warmth stayed in her eyes, but her posture changed. Her shoulders straightened. Her expression became polished. The woman everyone expected appeared again. That was probably the version the world knew.

The model. The millionaire. The person who belonged in rooms like this.

Azzi stood.

Gracefully. Effortlessly. Like she hadn’t just been sitting on the floor in a dress worth more than my car.

She looked at Hazel first.

“Bye, Hazel.”

Hazel waved.

“Bye.”

Then Azzi looked at me.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

There was something strange about it. Like there was a conversation happening that neither of us knew how to have. Finally, she gave me a small, polite nod.

“Excuse me.”

That was it.

No dramatic goodbye. No attempt to exchange numbers. No reason to stay.

She turned and disappeared into the crowd. Almost immediately, cameras surrounded her. People called her name. The world opened back up around her. And I stood there watching.

“Mommy?”

I looked down.

Hazel was looking up at me.

“Yeah?”

“Azzi is nice.”

I looked back toward where she disappeared.

Azzi.

Her name sounded strange in my head. Like I wasn’t supposed to remember it. But I did.

“She is.”

Hazel smiled.

“I like her.”

I nodded.

“Yeah.”

And I hated how easily I agreed. Because I didn’t know her. Not really. I knew she was famous. I knew she could silence an executive with a few sentences. But that wasn’t what stayed with me.

What stayed with me was the way she looked at Hazel.

Like my daughter wasn’t an inconvenience. Like she wasn’t a distraction. Like she was important. Most people looked at me and saw everything I had achieved. Azzi had looked at Hazel and saw the person I loved most.

That meant something.

I didn’t know what.

And I wasn’t interested in finding out. At least, that was what I told myself. Because I didn’t have time for distractions. I had a team depending on me. A daughter depending on me. A career I had fought too hard to build. I didn’t need complications.

Especially not beautiful ones wearing expensive dresses and walking into my life like they belonged there.

I picked Hazel up, adjusting her against my hip. She rested her head on my shoulder.

“Mommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we see Azzi again?”

I looked toward the crowd one last time.

She was gone.

Completely swallowed by cameras and people. I should have forgotten about her. That would have been easier. But something about Azzi bothered me. Not in the way most people did. Usually, I could figure people out within minutes. What thier intentions, weakness, and lies.

Azzi was different. I couldn’t tell if she was the most genuine person I had met in years—or the best actress. And for some reason, I wanted to know which one.

I walked out of the exhibition carrying my daughter, surrounded by lights, cameras, and a world that still didn’t feel like mine.

I had entered the room expecting nothing.

Instead, I left with one name stuck in my mind.

Azzi.