The sun was warm on your skin as you walked through the park with your friends, the air buzzing with weekend energy—kids laughing, dogs barking, music floating from a distant speaker. Laughter trailed behind you as you pointed out the cotton candy stand, but something else caught your eye.

A group of college students had set up near the fountain, cameras in hand, clicking away at the scenery and the people. One had a small sign propped up that read: Photoshoots – Instant Prints & Digital – Support a Broke Artist.

Your group slowed down, curious.

“They’re selling their photos,” one of your friends whispered, nudging you. “Let’s get one!”

You chuckled. “You go. I’ll just watch.”

“No way.” Another friend grinned. “You have to get one. You’d look amazing.”

Before you could protest, one of the guys from the photography group called over to his friend, “Haikal! This one’s for you!”

A tall guy with a camera slung around his neck looked up from checking his lens. His eyes met yours, and he gave a small nod, stepping forward with an easy, confident smile.

“You mind?” he asked, tilting his head as he lifted the camera slightly.

You hesitated, chewing your lip. “I… I don’t really do this.”

“That’s fine,” he said, voice calm and friendly. “Just be you. Nothing fake. Just... look at me.”

You found yourself standing a little straighter. Haikal raised the camera slowly, not in a rush, like he was giving you space to settle into the moment.

“Okay,” he said, softly now. “Head a little to the left… eyes on me.”

Click.

You barely realized you'd exhaled.

“Good,” he said. “Try a small smile. Not for me—for yourself.”

Click.

You smiled, despite yourself, and Haikal smiled back.