All I could hear after that were their footsteps, fading into the distance.
Eighteen dishes stood ready on the dining table, but the two of them remained in the bedroom.
The servants and I waited in silence all night.
By dawn, exhaustion overcame me and I dozed off—only to be jolted awake by the shrill ring of a phone.
"What kind of photographer is this? I look terrible! Justin, does my face really look that big?"
"Find someone else. Leave them a bad review!"
His tone was indulgent, almost amused.
"All right, as you wish."
Then, switching to another call, his voice instantly turned cool.
"Starlene, head to the beach. I’ll give you one hour."
"Bring your cameras and everything you need."
"Rhea loves your work, so don’t keep her waiting."
The words hit me like a bolt of lightning, freezing me in place.
He knew better than anyone that I hadn’t touched a camera since the day I took my parents’ memorial portraits.
And yet, he still said this.
My fingers clenched tightly around the phone and my voice trembled as I forced the words out.
"I can’t help you with this. I don’t know how to take good photos. Just find someone else."
Justin’s patience immediately snapped.