Chapter 1
Ally
T he hum of the studio lights buzzed in the background as I unboxed the light stands and reflectors, placing them in their designated spots with the precision of a well-rehearsed routine. The early May sun filtered through the high windows, casting long shadows that danced on the polished concrete floor. My hands moved, adjusting tripods and testing bulbs, but my mind felt distant, like I was watching someone else perform these tasks.
"Ally, can you get the backdrop ready?" Carl’s voice broke through my fog. He stood by his desk, rifling through a stack of client portfolios.
"Yeah, sure," I replied, my voice sounding hollow even to myself. I crossed the room to where the backdrops were stored, pulling out a deep blue one that always seemed to photograph well. The fabric was cool and smooth against my fingertips as I clipped it into place.
Carl’s footsteps echoed as he approached. "We’ve got a new client coming in today. Big deal for us. Make sure everything's perfect."
I nodded, barely looking up from the clamps I was fastening. Carl was always chasing the next big thing; it was part of what made him successful but also exhausting to work for.
"Anything special about this client?" I asked, more out of obligation than curiosity.
"Influencer," he replied, checking his watch. "You know how it is."
"Got it," I said, moving to adjust the lights. In fact, I didn't know how it was, but he didn't need to know that. The familiar scent of developing chemicals lingered in the air, a comforting yet stifling reminder of where I was.
Carl hovered for a moment longer before heading back to his desk. The clatter of his keyboard filled the silence as I continued setting up. The monotony of these preparations usually brought me a strange kind of solace, but today it felt like trudging through mud.
I focused on aligning the lights just right, making sure they would flatter without casting harsh shadows. Each click and adjustment felt automatic, my body operating on muscle memory.
“Ally!” Carl’s sharp tone snapped me back to reality.
“Yeah?”
“Client will be here in ten. You good?”
“Yeah,” I lied, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “All set.”
I moved to the table where the props were laid out, a variety of items wrapped in tissue paper. As I peeled back the layers, my breath caught in my throat. Tiny baby clothes, soft blankets, and pastel-colored toys emerged from the packaging. Each item seemed to pulse with its own small, heartbreaking glow.
For a moment, I couldn’t move. The sight of those baby clothes sent a jolt through me, sharp and unexpected. Memories I had tried so hard to bury surfaced with relentless clarity.
I shook my head slightly, willing myself to focus. This was just another job. I was a professional. I could handle it.
My fingers trembled as I arranged the clothes neatly on a wooden crate we used for props. A pale blue onesie slipped through my grasp, falling to the floor in a heap. I bent down to pick it up, feeling an unwelcome tightness in my chest.
“Just get through it,” I muttered under my breath. The soft fabric felt like a weight in my hand as I draped it over the crate. Next were the blankets—plush and comforting—yet they only seemed to suffocate me as I spread them out.
I glanced at the toys next: pastel-colored blocks and stuffed animals with stitched-on smiles that felt mocking. The room seemed smaller suddenly, the walls closing in.
“Ally!” Carl called from across the room, his voice snapping me back once more.
“I’m almost done,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Good. Client’s here.” His words were clipped, businesslike.
I swallowed hard and finished arranging the last few items, forcing myself to breathe evenly. My heart pounded against my ribs as if trying to break free from its cage. The memories and pain were too close, too raw, but there was no room for them now.
The studio door swung open, and the client walked in with an entourage that included a makeup artist and an assistant carrying yet more props.
“Hi,” she said brightly, her eyes sweeping over the setup with approval.
“Yes,” I managed a smile that felt plastered on my face. “Welcome.”
As they busied themselves with their own preparations, I stepped back, allowing myself one deep breath before plunging into the shoot. Professionalism was my armor today; it had to be enough.
Carl stepped forward, all smiles and enthusiasm. “Jamie, this is Ally, our photographer. She’s got an amazing eye.”
Jamie, the influencer, turned to me with a wide smile, her perfectly styled hair bouncing slightly as she moved. “Nice to meet you, Ally,” she said, extending a hand.
I took her hand and shook it lightly. “Nice to meet you, too.”
“And this,” Jamie said, turning her gaze downwards, “is my little bundle of joy.” She cradled a tiny baby in her arms, wrapped in a soft white blanket.
My breath caught in my throat as I looked at the newborn. He had the most delicate features—tiny fingers peeking out from under the blanket, rosy cheeks, and eyes that fluttered open for just a moment before closing again. My heart twisted painfully in my chest.
“He’s beautiful,” I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. Part of me wanted to reach out and touch his tiny hand, while another part of me wanted to turn and run as far away as possible. The ache in my chest grew sharper with each passing second.
Carl clapped his hands together, breaking the tension that only I seemed to feel. “All right, Ally, this is a newborn session. Can you help get everything set up?”
I nodded mechanically, my body moving before my mind could catch up. “Of course,” I replied, stepping towards the setup area.
As I adjusted the lights and repositioned the props, my hands shook slightly. I tried to focus on the task at hand—making sure everything was perfect for Jamie and her baby—but my thoughts kept drifting back to memories I wished I could forget.
I placed the pastel-colored blocks carefully around the wooden crate and spread out the soft blankets just so. The baby clothes felt heavier than before as I draped them over the props. Each movement felt like an eternity.
Jamie watched me with curiosity. “You’ve done this before, right?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I replied, forcing a smile. “Plenty of times.”
She seemed satisfied with that answer and turned her attention back to her baby, cooing softly to him.
Carl hovered nearby, checking his watch again. “Everything looks great,” he said. “Let’s get started.”
I took a deep breath and positioned myself behind the camera. This was my job; I could do this. As long as I focused on the lens and not on the ache in my heart or the tightness in my chest that made it hard to breathe.
The camera clicked softly as I began taking photos of Jamie and her newborn. The studio lights bathed them in a gentle glow, capturing each tender moment between mother and child.
I adjusted the lens, my fingers trembling slightly. Each click of the shutter felt like a jolt to my system, reverberating through my bones. Jamie’s soft murmurs to her baby faded into the background as memories from November surged forward, unbidden and relentless.
I remembered the sterile smell of the clinic, the cold, hard chair I sat in while waiting for news that I already knew deep down. My hands had clutched my belly, trying to hold onto something that was slipping away. The doctor's face had been a mask of practiced sympathy when she delivered the news—news that shattered me into pieces I still hadn’t been able to put back together.
My heart pounded as I forced myself to focus on the present. Jamie’s baby cooed softly, and she looked at him with a mixture of love and exhaustion. I had imagined looking at my own child that way, feeling that overwhelming surge of emotion. Instead, there was only emptiness.
Bitterness.
What could have been.
The flashback intensified, dragging me deeper into that November night when I had called Thomas’s name in my mind, but never aloud. He never knew; he never would. Not after what happened at the Masquerade between him and Nick. The secret weighed heavy on me, pressing down with a force that made it hard to breathe.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself. I couldn’t let these emotions surface here—not now. Not with Carl watching my every move and Jamie’s eyes were full of hopeful expectation. This wasn’t about me; this was about capturing a moment for someone else.
“Ally?” Jamie’s voice broke through the fog. “Is everything okay?”
I nodded quickly, plastering on a smile that felt brittle. “Yes, everything’s perfect.”
She smiled back, reassured, and turned her attention back to her baby. I adjusted the lighting one last time and continued shooting, each click of the camera grounding me back in reality.
The memories continued to claw at the edges of my mind, but I pushed them down with every ounce of strength I had left. The loss was still there—raw and aching—but it didn’t belong here in this room filled with new life and hope.
I captured Jamie cradling her son gently, his tiny fingers wrapping around hers. The tenderness in her eyes was palpable, and for a moment, I allowed myself to get lost in that image instead of my own pain.
The camera clicked again and again as I framed each shot perfectly, focusing on the details—the softness of the blanket, the way Jamie’s hair framed her face like a halo, the peaceful expression on her baby’s face.
Each picture was a reminder of what could have been but also a testament to what still existed—a world where beauty and pain coexisted in fragile balance.
The shoot wrapped up, and I finally exhaled a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Jamie cradled her baby, cooing softly as she approached the table where I was reviewing the photos on the computer. Her eyes sparkled as she looked over my shoulder, watching each image appear on the screen.
"These are amazing, Ally," Jamie said, her voice full of genuine admiration. "You really have a gift."
I managed a smile. "Thank you," I replied softly.
She glanced at me with a curious look. "Would you like to hold him?"
My breath caught in my throat. I looked at the baby nestled in her arms, so tiny and fragile. For a moment, I imagined what it would feel like to hold him, to feel that warmth and innocence against my skin. But then reality crashed back down, heavy and suffocating.
"I have somewhere to be," I lied, forcing a polite smile. "But thank you. He truly is an angel."
Jamie nodded, not pushing further. "He is," she said with a soft laugh. "Just you wait until you have one of your own."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My throat tightened as tears threatened to spill over. Without another word, I turned away and quickly gathered my things.
I left the studio in a blur; the door closing behind me with a hollow thud. The air outside felt cold against my flushed cheeks as I crossed the street with hurried steps until I reached the park nearby.
The familiar sights and sounds of the park surrounded me—the chirping birds, children’s laughter in the distance—but they did little to soothe the turmoil inside me. I found an empty bench and sank onto it, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm down.
Tears welled up despite my efforts, blurring my vision, but I blinked them away. I leaned forward, elbows resting on my knees as I buried my face in my hands, trying to hold it in. It had been six months.
Six months.
I should be over this.
Hell, I was only twenty-two. I shouldn't even want…
I sucked in a breath, then another. The raw ache remained, but felt slightly less suffocating now.
I sat on the bench a bit longer, taking deep breaths until I felt steady enough to return to the studio. The cold air had done little to clear my head, but I couldn’t afford to stay away any longer. I forced myself to stand and walked back, each step feeling heavier than the last.
When I pushed open the studio door, Carl looked up from his desk. "Everything all right?" His eyes scanned my face, searching for any sign of weakness.
I nodded, offering a tight smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."
Carl seemed satisfied with that and leaned back in his chair. "You did great today, Ally. That photoshoot is going to put this studio on the map," he said with a grin. "Thank God for Crestwood work placement or I never would have found you. And to think, the NHL wanted you." He scoffed, shaking his head.
I swallowed hard. The NHL had indeed offered me a position as a sports photographer after graduation, which was a few weeks away. But after everything with Thomas and Nick, the idea of being so close to that world was too painful. Especially with what happened. Especially after the scandal. I wouldn't be taken seriously in that field ever again.
This is fine , I thought, more to myself than to Carl. It’s good. You're still taking photos, and that's what counts.
At that moment, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I fished it out and saw a text notification from Kara.
Carl leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples as if warding off an impending headache.
“Listen Ally, I need you to come in tomorrow for a last-minute shoot,” he said, his voice carrying that familiar edge of exasperation. “It’s some middle school promotion thing. Kids posing with school supplies or something. They’re sending over a whole group.”
I nodded mechanically, barely registering his words. My mind was still wrapped around the tightness in my chest, the ache that seemed to throb with each heartbeat.
“I know it’s a pain in the ass, but the client is paying good money for it,” he continued. “I swear, sometimes I think these schools just look for ways to waste our time.”
His voice droned on, but I wasn’t really listening. The images from the earlier shoot played on a loop in my mind—the tiny fingers, the soft blankets, the pastel colors that felt like a cruel joke.
“Anyway,” Carl concluded with a dismissive wave of his hand, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Of course,” I replied automatically, forcing a smile that felt like it might crack my face. “I’ll be here.”
Carl gave me an approving nod before turning back to his desk, already immersed in whatever task lay before him. I gathered my things and headed for the door, each step feeling like it required more effort than it should.
The cold air outside was a harsh contrast to the stuffy warmth of the studio. I took a deep breath, trying to clear my head. Tomorrow was another day—a new set of faces, another job to complete. But for now, all I wanted was to find some semblance of peace.
As I walked away from the studio, I let out a long sigh. My phone buzzed again in my pocket with another text from Kara.
Hey. Don't kill me, but I need a favor. A big one.