The morning sun bled through the thin curtains as Evan sat up, blinking at the unfamiliar ceiling. For a second, he forgot where he was. Then he remembered — Perpignan, the guesthouse, Selene's half-smile before she walked away last night.
The night had gone well. Maybe too well.
He swung his legs over the bed showered and started getting dressed. Shirt, watch, boots — quick and clean. The wedding venue wasn't far, but he knew Adam would be impatient. Right on cue, his phone buzzed.
Adam: "Tell me you're not still in bed."
Evan: "Relax. I'm dressed. Shocking, I know."
Adam: "Good. The groom's panicking, the florist's lost, and I'm holding a boutonnière like it's a live grenade."
Evan: "Sounds like a perfect start to married life."
Adam: "Yeah, yeah. Listen—are you bringing her?"
Evan:[pauses] "Selene?"
Adam: "No, the ghost of your last failed situationship. Yes, Selene."
Evan:[smirking] "She's not exactly the wedding type."
Adam: "Neither are you, but here we are. So? What happened last night?"
Evan: "We talked. Walked a bit. Didn't crash the bike. Small win."
Adam:[teasing] "You like her."
Evan: "It's not about liking. She's... different."
Adam: "Different how?"
Evan:[grabbing his jacket] "The kind of different you don't explain over the phone. I'll see you in ten."
A gentle knock tapped against Selene's door. Evan stood outside, tousled hair still damp from a quick shower, camera bag slung over his shoulder, and a coffee in his hand.
Before he could knock again, the door opened.
Selene stood there—dressed in soft earthy tones, hair loosely tied back, notebook in hand.
Evan smiled in pleasant surprise.
She gave a small shrug. "You said nine."
He grinned.
she hides her smile, locking the door behind her.
They pulled up to the venue just as the sun pushed higher over the terracotta rooftops. The courtyard buzzed with last-minute decorations, half-tied ribbons, and someone arguing over the playlist.
Adam stood near the entrance, arms crossed, foot tapping like a metronome of impatience.
"Why do I always end up doing all your work whenever you're in town?"
"See? I'm right on time." Evan grinning as he stepped out and pulled Adam into a quick hug.
Evan turned, motioning toward Selene as she stepped out behind him. "Adam, this is Selene. Selene, meet Adam — professional overthinker, amateur wedding planner."
"So you're the mysterious one." Adam offering a warm smile and his hand
Selene said with a little cautious, but polite "nice to meet you."
Evan noticing how her eyes scanned the crowd, how her fingers tucked a strand of hair behind her ear when she was unsure.
They went ahead. He handed her a light vintage camera with a canvas strap and nodded toward the crowd. "Your job today—write stories. Talk to people. Ask them about the couple or anything. And take pictures too."
She looked at him, wide-eyed. "I've never used a camera like this."
"It's simple. Point, click. You'll get it. I trust you."
The way he said it made her hesitate. But she nodded.
As Evan disappeared into the chaos—greeting the bride and groom, adjusting lenses, crouching near flower arches—Selene drifted into the crowd. She watched people. Noticed things.
A woman in her late sixties stood by a garden fence, sipping lemonade, staring at the couple.
Selene walked over gently. "Hi… do you mind if I ask—how do you know the couple?"
The woman smiled, her voice warm and steady.
"Oh, I raised the bride. I used to be her neighbor when she was little. She used to bring me burnt cookies every Sunday when she first started baking."
Selene chuckled.
"She thought I liked them. But I never told her the truth. I just kept eating them," the woman said. "She's always been that way. Trying. Trying to make people happy even when it doesn't come out perfect. That's why I know he's the right one for her. He's never once made her feel like she had to be."
Selene froze at that. Something about it settled heavily in her chest.
She wrote every word down.
Across the lawn, Evan glanced at her. She stood in the golden light, scribbling into her notebook, eyes distant, thoughtful.
He raised his camera, half-smiling. Click.
Another angle. Click.
Adam appeared beside him, peering over his shoulder.
Adam:"She's not the bride, you know."
Evan:[without looking up] "Thanks for the reminder."
Adam: *"Just making sure you're not building an entire photo album titled 'Woman Who Barely Tolerates Me.'"
Evan:[grinning] "Too late. Already on chapter two."
Adam:"At this point, just marry her and save me the emotional labor."
Evan:"Pretty sure she'd run faster than the groom if I even suggested that."
They both glanced toward Selene — who, suspiciously, was now looking in their direction with narrowed eyes, as if she did notice after all.
Adam:"Yep. She knows."
Evan lowered the camera smiles & waves at her.
Later, as guests danced and champagne clinked and petals scattered like snow, Evan and Selene worked in tandem.