(Michelle Lui's POV)
We reached a corner of the conservatory where sunlight streamed through the glass at a perfect angle — soft, golden, warm. It turned the orchids beside Steven into something out of a painting.
And Steven—
Standing there with light slipping onto his hair—
He looked…
Strangely breathtaking.
And my brain, traitor it was, whispered:
Take a picture.
Keep the moment.
You'll want to look at it later.
I swallowed.
But how does someone ASK that?
"Hey Steven, you look like a Renaissance blessing, stand still so I can immortalize your face"?
No. Absolutely not.
But I also… really wanted a picture.
So I cleared my throat softly.
"Um… Steven?"
He glanced over. "Hm?"
Okay Michelle breathe don't panic oh god this is embarrassing—
"I—uh—could… I mean—would you mind if I took a… photo of you?"
My voice came out small.
Super small.
Steven blinked. "A photo?"
