Chapter 2

The director handed me the shot list at nine the next morning.

I got to the third line and stopped.

Ethan and Sloane - shared blanket, sunset.

The fourth was worse.

Ethan and Sloane - intimate campfire close-up.

I looked up.

"When was this added?"

The director glanced toward the ridge where Ethan and Sloane were getting mic'd.

"The brand loved the response to the livestream. They want to lean into the couple chemistry."

Couple chemistry.

Three days ago, Sloane had been introduced as an on-camera partner. Ethan had insisted nobody was replacing me.

Now the sponsor was building an ad around them as a couple.

Ethan walked over.

"We're losing light."

I held out the page.

"You saw this?"

"Yes."

"And agreed?"

"It's a camping campaign, Maya."

He said my name quietly, the way he did when he wanted me to stop making a scene before I had made one.

I folded the page once and handed it back to the director.

"Let's shoot."

Work had always been the easiest place for me to keep my face still.

Sloane stood beside Ethan with two metal mugs.

"Closer," the director called.

She leaned into him.

Ethan's arm went around her shoulders.

I framed the shot.

"Hold."

Click.

"Again."

Click.

We moved to the tent setup.

Sloane struggled with a strap on her pack.

Before anyone asked, Ethan stepped behind her and fixed it.

At lunch, she passed him her water bottle.

He twisted the cap off without looking and handed it back.

Neither of them seemed to notice.

I did.

That bothered me more than the staged touches. A pose could end when the director called cut. Habits were harder to explain away.

For nine years, noticing small things had been my job.

By late afternoon, we reached the campfire scene.

Sloane sat between Ethan's knees.

The director looked at the monitor.

"Can we make it warmer? Ethan, arms around her. Sloane, lean back."

I lowered the camera.

"That's not the approved shot."

The director checked his phone.

"Brand just asked for one more intimate option."

Ethan came toward me.

"Maya, just get it."

I looked at him.

"Would you ask another photographer to shoot her husband holding another woman like this?"

His mouth tightened.

"This is content."

"No. This is you deciding content has no line."

The crew went quiet.

Ethan glanced around.

"Can we not do this here?"

I almost laughed.

He had let one million people mistake Sloane for his wife in public.

But my objection was the embarrassing part.

The director called that we had ten minutes before sunset.

I lifted the camera.

"One take."

Ethan went back.

Sloane leaned against his chest.

His arms closed around her.

I got the frame.

"Cut."

The director stepped away to check playback.

But Sloane stayed where she was.

Ethan's hand stayed at her waist.

They leaned toward the monitor together.

Five seconds passed.

Then another two.

No camera was rolling.

No sponsor needed it.

I lowered mine completely.

Ethan glanced over.

"We need a tighter version."

"No."

His expression changed.

"Maya."

"I said no."

For nine years, Ethan had believed that if a shot mattered, I would get it.

That afternoon, for the first time, I let the shot go.