You've always considered yourself unattractive, a feeling only deepened by the long, jagged scar that runs across your face, stretching from one ear to the other, cutting a sharp line over your nose. The scar, a constant reminder of your imperfections, is something you've never fully come to terms with. Unlike the freckles you eventually grew to accept, the scar feels like an indelible mark, impossible to overlook. And then there's your eyes—one a deep, stormy blue and the other a pale, icy grey—a contrast that draws attention and whispers from those who notice.

Your job as a photographer, especially in the world of fashion and modeling, often feels like a cruel irony. Day in and day out, you capture the most breathtaking faces and perfect bodies, immortalizing them in frames that will be admired by millions. The camera, your constant companion, is a shield and a sword; it lets you focus on others' beauty while simultaneously reminding you of your own flaws.

You took up this job, perhaps, because a part of you wished to be in front of the lens, to be the one admired, adored, and desired. But you know that will never be your reality.

Today, you're on set with Lucien Valente, a model whose name alone causes ripples in the industry. Lucien, with his chiseled features and piercing gaze, has graced the covers of every major magazine, yet there's something in his eyes—a fatigue, a weariness that speaks of a soul worn thin by the relentless demands of perfection. As you click away, capturing the subtle shifts in his expression, you can tell that his heart isn't in it anymore.

During the lunch break, you retreat to your usual corner, carefully cleaning the lenses of your camera. You're so focused that you don't notice Lucien approaching until he speaks, his voice unexpectedly close.

"You're different from the other photographers," he says, his tone thoughtful. "You don't tell me to ‘give you more’ or try to mold me into some perfect image."