I don't know why I'm here.
That thought flickers again as I trail behind Evan, notebook in hand, scribbling half the things he says and pretending I don't enjoy the way he talks to people, to light, to spaces—as if the world is always telling him secrets he wants to capture.
But still… it feels good to be here. To be outside. To not be suffocating under the weight of everything I left behind.
The sunlight soft, casting golden light across the backyard. Evan moved ahead of me, pointing at trees, corners, flowerbeds—his energy was contagious. I was trying not to catch it.
"Pretty efficient for someone who says they're bad at planning," I muttered under my breath, smiling faintly as I wrote.
Then I saw a small lake nestled at the edge of the property, half-hidden behind a curve of trees. There was a wooden bridge arching over it, delicate and old, the kind of place you'd stumble upon in a dream.
I stopped walking.
"Pretty, isn't it?" Evan's voice came from beside me. I hadn't even realized he'd walked back.
I glanced at him—he was looking at the lake, then at me, then back at the lake. "Yeah," I said quietly. "It is."
"Wanna check it out?" he asked, tilting his head. "Come on."
"I think we should just keep moving. We've seen enough."
He grinned and placed a light hand on my back, nudging me forward. "Let's go, mysterious assistant. It's calling us."
"Evan," I warned, but it was already too late. He was half-dragging, half-coaxing me onto the little wooden bridge, like some child excited to show his favorite hiding spot.
The lake shimmered beneath us, still and clear. Trees hung low, their leaves brushing the surface like fingertips.
He leaned on the railing, looking out, and I joined him hesitantly.
"Do you think we should add this spot too?" he asked, glancing at me.
I looked at the water. "Some places, should be left alone." I said softly,
He was quiet for a second. "Why?"
I shrugged, eyes tracing the ripples on the surface. "Because they're too quiet. Too perfect. Like they belong to no one and everyone at once. Some places are meant to be found… not taken."
He looked at me in that way again—like he wanted to understand something I wasn't saying.
"That's poetic. I'm putting that in my next blog post." he said,
I smiled. "You're welcome."
We stood there a while longer—just enough silence to feel like maybe, this new city wasn't such a terrible place to be lost in after all.
They walked out of the venue, sunlight trailing behind them, and the bike waited patiently under the shade of a tree.
Evan tossed her the helmet. "Back on the beast," he said with a grin.
She sighed but didn't fight it this time. Maybe the wind was starting to grow on her.
They rode through the winding streets until Evan slowed down in front of a little restaurant tucked between two art shops. Hand-painted windows, crooked flower pots on the sill. A sign read: Home Kitchen.
"Let's eat something," he said, already parking the bike.
"I'm not hungry," Selene muttered, taking off her helmet.
"Why are you always saying no?" Evan replied, walking backwards toward the door, arms spread dramatically. "You said no to the lake, no to the bridge, no to coffee this morning—and now this?"
"I didn't say no to the bridge. You pushed me."
he shrugged. "Come on. My treat."
Before she could protest again, he'd already opened the door and was waving at the old lady at the counter like they were old friends.
Selene stood there for a moment, arms crossed, then sighed and followed him inside.
They sat at a window table. Evan ordered something suspiciously fast. She opened the menu like it might bite her.
"Just get whatever sounds less risky," he said. "I already got dumplings and curry. You'll like it."
She nodded. "Yes, okay"
He smiled.
A few quiet minutes passed. She tapped her fingers on the edge of the table. Evan was scrolling on his tablet again.
"Tomorrow's the big day," he said, looking up. "Wedding prep starts at 9 a.m. sharp. So, you, my dear, gotta be ready."
"Why do I have to go to the actual wedding?"
He looked at her like she just asked why people need to breathe. "Because. You're my assistant. Emotional support. Gear carrier. Light reflector holder. Lens swapper. Witness to my genius."
She shook her head, half-smiling. "Sounds exhausting."
"You'll survive. I'll even buy you a croissant after."
"Wow. Tempting."
The food arrived and they started eating. The silence between them wasn't heavy anymore. It was something softer.
After a while, Selene leaned back, fork still in hand. "Why weddings?" she asked. "Out of all the things you could take pictures of."
Evan took a moment, chewing. Then, "Because people are soft at weddings. They pretend they're not, but they are. Emotions leak everywhere. And for a second, the world forgets how hard it is."
"That's… weirdly deep."
He grinned.
She rested her chin on her hand. "You believe in that stuff? Love? Forever?"
He was quiet for a beat.
"I believe," he said slowly, "that people are always searching for someone who doesn't leave. Even if they don't say it out loud. It's not about love, not really. It's about someone staying when the silence gets ugly, when the worst parts show. That kind of presence—most people never find it. But they look anyway."
She didn't reply right away. Just nodded, looking out the window.
"Is it wrong to leave when things get ugly… after the worst part shows?"
Evan pauses, "Depends on what the worst part is."
"The part that makes people flinch. The kind you can't explain without sounding insane." Selene said softly.
Evan looks at her, "Then maybe it's not about right or wrong. Maybe it's about who chooses to understand… and who walks away the moment it gets hard."
She didn't meet his eyes. "I think... some people aren't meant to be found."
The light shifted. The table between them felt suddenly smaller.
Evan broke the moment with a soft chuckle. "That's alright. I'm not trying to find anyone. I'm just collecting good stories."
She finally looked at him. "And what kind of story do you think I am?"
He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "A complicated one."
"And you're still reading?"
He shrugged. "I like complicated… more when it's pretty."
The hallway was dimly lit when they got back. Selene walked slowly, the breeze still tangled in her hair. As she reached for her keycard, she noticed Evan unlocking the door… right next to hers.
She narrowed her eyes. "So you are stalking me."
Evan grinned, leaning casually against his doorframe. "You caught me. It's all part of my long, elaborate plan to recruit an assistant who doesn't even want the job."
She rolled her eyes but the corner of her lips twitched into something dangerously close to a smile. "You're ridiculous."
"And yet," he pointed a finger at her, "you're still here. Which means you might be the real problem."
She scoffed, shook her head, and disappeared into her room with a quiet laugh. He stood there a moment longer, watching the door she closed behind her.
Inside, Selene kicked off her shoes, pulled the curtains shut, and collapsed onto the bed. She stared at the ceiling for a while. The day had been… different. She wasn't used to that much sunlight, laughter, or company.
Do I really want to go to that wedding tomorrow?
She wasn't sure.
But she hadn't felt this calm in a while. The kind of calm that makes you afraid it'll be stolen again.
Next door, Evan had tossed his jacket aside, kicked off his boots, and sprawled across the bed. He reached for the notebook she'd used today—her scribbled words, her slightly messy handwriting—and flipped through it.
"Not bad," he whispered to himself with a crooked smile.
She'd written everything. Even the dumb stuff he'd said.
With a soft exhale, he set the notebook down and opened his tablet. The glow from the screen reflected on his face as he began drafting his blog post. But his thoughts weren't just on the wedding or the venue.
His fingers hovered over the keys.
"Today I hired someone who doesn't know she needs saving."
He deleted the line.
Typed something else.
Paused.
Backspaced.
Eventually, he just saved the draft, shut the tablet, and stared at the ceiling.