Chapter 18
When the scheduled day arrived, I got up, got ready, and grabbed my gear before heading out to the shooting location.
The maple forest burned with shades of crimson and gold. Simon was already there, dressed in his usual effortless, casual style. He waved at me with a bright smile.
“Over here, Serena.”
I waved back and hurried over.
During the shoot, I had to admit that Simon was an absolute natural. He was tall, hot, and effortlessly photogenic. Every pose he struck looked straight out of a magazine. Even if I had no photography skills at all, 1 doubted I could take a bad picture of him.
Because of that, the shoot went smoothly. Within three hours, we were both satisfied and ready to wrap up.
But after coming all this way, heading straight back felt like a waste.
Simon, ever prepared, had already looked up local spots and casually invited me to grab a meal. He claimed the restaurant nearby had great reviews. If it weren’t for the slight flush on his face, I might’ve believed this was just about food and nothing else.
I deliberately took a few extra moments to look at him without answering right away. The man who had just been putting on a composed act instantly let his face fall. “Serena, I’ve asked you so many times already. Just say yes this once. The food is really good, I promise.”
It was true. On days we weren’t shooting, Simon would eagerly try to ask me out for a meal. But unfortunately for him, I always turned him down with the excuse of being too busy with work.
It wasn’t intentional. I really was busy. Not every client was as effortless as Simon, who was practically a walking mannequin. Sometimes, I had to stay up past midnight just to finish editing photos.
But seeing him look so pitiful now, I couldn’t bring myself to tease him any longer.
“Alright, alright, I was just messing with you. Let’s go. It’s not far, right?”
Simon’s face immediately lit up. “Not far at all! I already made the reservation. Oh, I almost forgot. I got you something.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small tube of ointment. Before I could even read the label, he took my previously injured hand and carefully applied the cream with careful precision.
A cool sensation spread across my skin, soothing the ever–present heat and phantom pain in my scarred hand.
I froze, instinctively curling my fingers. My hand was so ugly.
The burn scars, worsened by my skin’s tendency to keloid, had left it swollen and uneven. It was far from delicate or beautiful. And yet, Simon held it without hesitation. “You don’t have to. It won’t heal anymore,” I murmured, sadness flickering in my eyes.
“I looked into it. With the right treatment, there’s still a chance for recovery. Serena, I know this hand must mean a lot to you. I want to help you get it back.”
Smiling, Simon tucked the tube of ointment into my hands.
His kindness was never hidden. A simple, earnest sentence was enough to shake something deep inside me.
I flinched slightly, unable to respond. But Simon gently pried my fingers open and intertwined them with his own.
“Come on. Let’s eat. Just promise me you’ll use the cream every day. Even if there’s only a small chance, it’s worth trying, right? It’s not like things could get any worse.”
He made his point so logically and convincingly that I couldn’t help but smile. When did I start getting lectures from someone younger than me?
But he wasn’t wrong. It couldn’t get any worse.
My numb fingers instinctively curled around his, and a sense of ease washed over me.
