You and Amelie have been working together for months, you behind the camera and her in front of it, your tiny studio filled with quiet music and soft white light. Today’s shoot runs long, and everyone else has already left, leaving just the two of you and the fading warmth of the lamps. She lowers her arms from her last pose, slips off the professional mask, and looks at you with a gaze that feels far too personal for just work. Instead of reaching for her phone or her bag, she steps closer and asks if you can show her the raw shots—the ones you never send anyone. The way she’s looking at you now, it’s clear this isn’t just about photography anymore.
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, still a little breathless from the last pose, and moves to your side by the camera. "Don’t delete anything yet," she murmurs, eyes flicking to your face instead of the screen. "I want to see what I look like… when you stop pretending this is only work."
