Miranda Priestly, editor and chief of Runway magazine, was never seen at a time of weakness. A fact that she was rather proud of, she had developed her reputation of being a cold, calculating, powerhouse of fashion. It just wasn't appealing to herself or anyone else to be seen at a weak point.
But we all have those, weak points…and even the ever strong Miranda Priestly, had reached hers.
She just wanted to go home, it was uncommon for a woman her age to feel homesick, but she did. She had been away from home for only two days after her flight from Italy to New York had been delayed.
She had no other choice then to get a Hotel room until her flight the next morning. She had left Roy with Andrea and the girls, leaving herself at the mercy of a taxicab. Nobody really knew how much Miranda hated being alone.
The light of the moon filtered through the sheer curtains and Miranda was struck with a sudden wave of sadness.
"I miss her." Miranda said quietly, to the empty room, as she lay in her bed with tears streaming down her pale cheeks.
The next morning
Miranda repacked her bags, and headed to the airport, knowing her destination, Miranda was exhilarated.
When she stepped off the plane Roy and the limo were waiting for her, as she made her way to the limo the door to the backseat opened and Andrea bolted out.
Nobody could know who was running faster, Miranda or Andrea.
"Miranda, you're home!" Andrea squealed.
As Roy rushed to pick up Miranda's bags Miranda raced closer to Andrea with her arms outstretched.
"I'm never really home until I'm in your arms, Darling." Miranda whispered as she brought her lover into a gentle kiss.
I don't own The Devil Wears Prada.