Chapter 1

When I told Ethan I wanted to break up, he was busy adjusting the settings on his camera.

“Is this because I posted her on my Instagram?”

“Yes.”

He squinted, focusing the lens. “So how long is this one?” he asked with a smile. “A week? Two? Don’t make it too long, I might forget who you are.”

After eleven years, he couldn’t fathom the idea of me actually leaving.

But this time, I was serious.

When college decisions came, he accepted his offer from NYU. I enrolled at UCLA, on the opposite side of the continent.

From then on, we were worlds apart.

In the coffee shop, the shutter clicked. Ethan looked down at the camera's display, smiling at the picture he’d just taken of me.

“I’m saving all of these for our wedding slideshow. I’ve even got the title: ‘My Brattish Girlfriend Who Cried Wolf 100 Times.’”

I kept my face perfectly still. I wasn't joking.

“You know,” he mused, “I can never get the same vibe from you. When I shot Sophie the other day, every frame was perfect.”

He clearly didn't believe a word I'd said.

“I’m serious, Ethan.”

He finally looked up, his smile fading.

“You’re breaking up with me because I posted her on my feed? Clara, seriously? It's just Instagram.”

“Yes, it is.”

Of course it was.

Ethan had used the $2,000 Canon R6 I got him for his birthday to take graduation photos. He posted a nine-photo carousel. Every single shot was a close-up of Sophie.

Our friends commented on how “ethereal” and “effortless” she looked. He replied, “Sophie just has a unique aura.”

My photos? He didn't even keep the RAW files.

He said I was "too stiff" and "didn't know my angles."

“Okay, my little jealous girl. How about I take a bunch of you right now and post a new carousel? Happy?”

He was talking to me like I was a child.

I took a deep breath. “You don’t get it. I don't care about the post.”

“I get it, I get it. Fine. I’ll delete it. Is that what you want?”

I just shook my head. I was so tired of him playing dumb.

“You’re deleting it? Can I at least get the original files first?”

Sophie had materialized at our table, sliding into the booth without asking. She immediately sensed the tension. “What’s wrong? Ethan, did you make Clara mad again?”

Ethan just pouted and said nothing.

Sophie immediately jumped into action.

“Clara, don’t be mad at him. It’s my fault. I begged him to take more pictures of me. It’s been so long since I’ve had a real photoshoot.”

She tugged on Ethan’s sleeve.

“I don’t need the originals. Just delete the post, okay? It’s not worth fighting with your girlfriend over.”

I let out a cold laugh. “Not worth it? Letting my boyfriend take your pictures is a 'small thing'? Using a matching phone case with my boyfriend is a 'small thing'? Secretly changing my boyfriend’s lock screen to a picture of yourself is a 'small thing'?”

“Sophie, how is it that you’re at the center of every single 'small thing' that makes me miserable?”

“If you like him so much, you can have him.”

Sophie’s lip trembled, her eyes instantly welling up.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, pulling the phone case off her phone. “You’re misunderstanding. It’s not like that. I don’t have a family anymore. Ethan’s family... they’re all I have.”

She set the case on the table, and a tear rolled down her cheek.

Ethan shot me a look of pure disgust.

“Why are you attacking her? If you’re mad, be mad at me. She didn’t do anything.”

He snatched the phone case and shoved it back into her hand.

I suddenly felt incredibly tired.

Chapter 2

I got up and left the coffee shop. I didn't want to stay and watch him comfort her.

I couldn’t believe our eleven-year relationship was ending like this.

That night, my friends had planned a murder mystery game night. I didn't want to make it awkward for everyone, so I forced myself to go.

I was a few minutes late, and I could hear them talking inside.

“Is Clara bailing? Don't tell me they're fighting again.”

“It’s because of that Instagram post.”

Someone laughed. “She’s seriously mad about that? Ethan, you’re the president of the photo club. You take pictures. That's... what you do. Clara needs to chill.”

“Seriously. Remember last time? She got mad because Ethan got the 'Lovers' script with someone else and she sulked all night. Ruined the game.”

“If I had a girlfriend, I’d want someone sweet. Someone who doesn't fly off the handle. You know, like Sophie.”

I heard Ethan sigh.

“It’s my fault. I spoiled her. She’s just… like that.”

“Well, you’d better keep spoiling her,” a guy joked. “No one else will put up with that. You’re stuck with her.”

A soft, sweet voice cut in.

“Clara is so lucky. If I had someone who doted on me like that, I would never, ever get mad at him.”

So, Sophie was here too.

The group erupted. “Ooooh! Then you two should be the 'Lovers' tonight!”

“Really?” Sophie giggled. “Can we pick the script where you have to give me a romantic confession?”

Ethan’s voice, full of amusement.

“Fine. Just for tonight, I’ll indulge you.”

He then added, “But seriously guys, don’t tell Clara. You know how she gets.”

I let my hand fall from the doorknob. The laughter inside sounded so sharp.

He knew. He knew I hated when he did that. He’d say one thing to me, then do the exact opposite, all because he was so sure I’d never actually leave.

He’d miscalculated.

Later that night, Sophie posted on her Instagram story.

“First time playing a murder mystery! I never knew ‘growing old together’ could be so romantic. Thank you for one perfect night that healed me. I used to think there was nothing left for me in this world, but now… now I have a new dream to chase.”

Tucked in the corner of a group photo was a close-up: two hands, fingers interlaced.

Ethan wasn’t in the photo, but I’d know that hand anywhere.

I swiped up to see the comments. Ethan’s was at the top.

“Don’t be so pessimistic. There’s still so much beauty in the world waiting for us.”

I turned off my phone and knocked on my dad’s study.

“Dad, I want to apply to UCLA.”

He stopped typing and closed his laptop, motioning for me to sit.

“What’s this? A sudden change of heart? I thought you were set on NYU, to be with Ethan.”

“Your firm is moving its headquarters to LA, isn't it? I want to be closer to you. And I want to study finance. The job market is better on the West Coast.”

My dad saw the sadness on my face, but he didn't push.

“I support you, Clara. Prioritizing your own future is never the wrong move. To be honest, I was worried about you being so far away for the first time. This… this is a relief.”

Looking at his kind, supportive face, I knew I’d made the right choice.

Chapter 3

The day after my final exams, I submitted my application to UCLA. I got an interview notification for the end of the month.

I spent the next few weeks prepping for the all-virtual group interview.

I’d completely forgotten I’d bought tickets for the Mori Daido exhibit until I got a calendar alert.

Ethan had been devastated when they sold out. I’d secretly paid a ridiculous price for two tickets from a reseller, planning to surprise him after finals.

Now, it didn’t matter.

I took a picture of the tickets and posted it on my story: “One free ticket to the Mori Daido exhibit. First to reply gets it.”

A profile pic I didn’t recognize popped up.

“Wait, seriously? Those are impossible to get! Can I have it?”

I had to think hard. It was Leo, a guy from Ethan’s photo club. He was one of their main models, tall, great build.

When I met him at the gallery, I realized he was really tall. And pale, with a sweet smile that showed off a single canine tooth.

A few girls walked by, did a double-take, and whispered, clearly debating asking for his number.

He was quiet, but when we stood in front of a piece he loved, he came alive, explaining Mori’s shooting style, the context.

For the first time, photography actually seemed interesting.

“Can I take a picture of you?” he asked suddenly. “This light... the angle... it’s perfect for you.”

I was a little embarrassed, but I nodded.

“See?” He showed me the screen. “It’s got such a great mood.”

“Your profile is amazing. Can we try a full-face shot? Let me find the light.”

The moment he picked up the camera, he was a different person—focused, intense. I loved every shot he took.

I realized Ethan hadn't taken a patient, thoughtful picture of me in years.

After the exhibit, I asked him to send me the photos. As we were leaving, I asked, “Is it... cool if I post one?”

“Of course,” he beamed. “Can I?”

“Of course.”

I was walking away when he called out, “Hey! Thanks for the ticket. I had a great time. Can I... buy you dinner sometime? To thank you?”

I surprised myself by nodding.

I was scrolling through the photos, trying to pick one for my post.

I remembered the first time I met Ethan. He was holding a camera, too.

I was seven. My mom had just passed away. My dad was lost in his own grief.

I was hiding in the apartment complex garden, crying, when Ethan peeked out from behind a little toy camera and offered me a gummy bear.

“Don’t cry,” he’d said. “You’re prettier when you smile.”

He was the one who pulled me out of my shell. When my dad forgot to make dinner, he’d drag me to his house.

“Clara, be my exclusive model, okay? When I grow up, I’ll open a whole gallery just for you.”

He took my picture every year on my birthday.

Until my 17th birthday.

That was the day his mom’s best friend died in a car crash, leaving her orphaned daughter, Sophie, in their care.

That day, I lost more than just a birthday photo.

My phone rang, pulling me from the memory. It was Ethan. He sounded annoyed.

“Clara, that’s enough. Leo posted a dozen pictures of you. What are people supposed to think?”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb. I’m surprised he agreed to this little stunt. He’s the campus heartthrob, Clara. You really think anyone believes he’s actually into you?”

I had no idea what he was talking about. I put him on speaker and opened Instagram.

Leo had posted a nine-photo carousel of me.

His caption: “In all the light and time, you were the most special part.”

“It’s just a few pictures, Ethan. Why do you care?”

He was silent for a beat. I had to laugh. So, he did know what it felt like.

I heard a door knock on his end. Sophie’s voice. “Ethan? Can you... can you help me with my zipper? I can't reach.”

I smiled. “You’d better go. Don’t want to keep Sophie waiting.”

Chapter 4

I hung up and hit 'post' on my own carousel.

My caption: “Light and time. Made special because you were the one capturing it.”

Leo liked it instantly. A DM popped up.

“Forgot to ask! Where are you going to college?”

I typed back: “Applying to UCLA. Fingers crossed for the interview.”

He sent back a random "happy" emoji, then: “Good luck!! You’ll crush it.”

My friends were blowing up the comments.

“JUST CAME FROM LEO’S PAGE. WHAT IS HAPPENING.”

“Clara! This set is gorgeous!”

“I am now the captain of this ship.”

I had to jump in and explain we were just friends from photo club.

The next day, at the graduation party, everyone was still whispering about it.

“He’s in the photo club! It’s normal!” I insisted.

Ethan was sitting across from me, glaring, sipping a boba tea.

Sophie, sitting next to him, leaned over and took a sip from his straw. “Ugh, too cold. Can you hold it for me?”

Someone asked about college plans. Sophie chirped, “I’m going to a college right on the west side. I can still meet up with Ethan for dinner on weekends!”

Ethan frowned. “Why would you do that? I’m not your boyfriend.”

They asked me.

I was hesitant to say anything about UCLA before I’d even done the interview. As I was trying to find the words, Ethan answered for me.

“Clara’s coming to NYU, of course. She’s only a few points behind me. We’ll probably even take the same classes.”

Sophie laughed. “Aww, so she can keep bossing you around.”

After dinner, Ethan pulled me aside.

“I got the book from the New York Institute of Photography you ordered. Thanks. I love it.”

I’d forgotten I’d canceled the order. "Oh. It must have shipped early. Sorry, I meant to cancel that."

His face darkened.

“Clara. Can we stop this? Are you thinking business or comp-sci? Just tell me, and I’ll register for the same major.”

He reached for my wrist, and I saw it: a red string bracelet. I glanced at Sophie. She was wearing a matching one.

Ethan yanked it off. “Sophie made them. It’s stupid. If you don’t like it, I won’t wear it.” He stuffed it in his pocket.

Sophie looked furious.

Ethan stared at me. “Just... text me what major you pick. Okay?”

Suddenly, Sophie clutched his arm, doubling over.

“Ethan... my stomach... it hurts. I think it’s... you know...”

He sighed, exasperated. “I told you not to drink that boba. It’s right before your period.”

Sophie’s eyes filled with tears, and she sagged against him.

“I’ll call you tonight. To talk about our classes,” he said, as he helped her into a cab.

I smiled and pulled out my phone.

“Hey, Dad? You can come get me. My suitcase is by the door. We can go straight to the airport.”