9. Through the Lens

The next morning arrived too quickly. Nora had barely slept, her dreams dissolving into fragments of camera shutters, white roses, and Celine's eyes. By the time she climbed out of bed, the house was already alive with movement. Someone was laughing downstairs. Someone else was arguing over ribbons. The scent of fresh coffee drifted through the hallway, mixing with the perfume of flowers that had arrived before sunrise. She dressed mechanically, choosing faded jeans and an oversized black shirt—the uniform she always wore when she photographed events. The camera around her neck felt familiar, grounding. It was the one thing in her life that still made sense. Cameras didn't ask impossible questions. They didn't fall in love with people they shouldn't. They simply captured what stood in front of them. Nora wished her heart worked the same way.

By eight o'clock, everyone had piled into three different cars for the venue walkthrough. Nora volunteered to drive separately, claiming she needed room for her equipment. The truth was simpler. She couldn't bear sitting in the same car as Celine while Aaliyah chatted happily about floral arrangements and honeymoon plans. She wasn't strong enough for that. The forty-minute drive became a desperate attempt to quiet her thoughts, but every red light, every familiar song on the radio, every empty stretch of road led her back to the same place. Celine. The memory of their kiss lingered like sunlight trapped beneath her skin. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white.

The venue sat on the edge of a quiet lake, surrounded by towering oak trees whose branches stretched protectively over winding stone paths. It looked like something lifted from a dream. White arches framed the entrance. Wildflowers bordered the gardens. Beyond the ceremony lawn, the water shimmered beneath the morning sun, calm enough to reflect the clouds drifting overhead. Nora stepped out of her car and instinctively reached for her camera. Looking through a lens was easier than looking directly at reality.

"Perfect timing."

Aaliyah hurried toward her with a bright smile, excitement practically radiating from every step.

"Mom says we should get as many candid shots as possible. The planner wants pictures before everything gets decorated."

Nora smiled.

"I've got it."

"I knew I could count on you."

Those words landed heavily.

I knew I could count on you.

If only Aaliyah knew.

If only she could see the war raging inside her little sister every time Celine entered the room.

"Photographer!" one of the bridesmaids called playfully. "Make us look expensive."

Laughter erupted around the group.

Nora lifted her camera.

Click.

Aaliyah laughing with her bridesmaids.

Click.

Her mother fixing someone's necklace.

Click.

The lake sparkling behind the ceremony arch.

Each photograph became a temporary escape.

Until Celine walked into the frame.

She wore a simple cream blouse tucked into light blue trousers, her hair gathered loosely behind her head. Nothing extravagant. Nothing designed to attract attention.

It didn't matter.

Nora's breath caught anyway.

Through the camera lens, everything else blurred.

There was only her.

Celine turned slightly, laughing at something the wedding planner had said.

Without thinking, Nora pressed the shutter.

Click.

Another.

Click.

And another.

"You've taken five pictures of me already."

The voice startled her.

Celine had somehow crossed the distance between them without Nora noticing.

Heat rushed into Nora's face.

"I was testing the lighting."

"Were you?"

There was amusement in Celine's eyes, but something softer underneath it.

"I didn't realize my face was the lighting."

Nora lowered the camera, unable to hide the embarrassed smile tugging at her lips.

"You happened to be standing in front of the lake."

"Convenient."

"I didn't say it wasn't."

For one dangerous second, they simply looked at each other.

Then—

"Nora!"

Aaliyah waved enthusiastically from across the lawn.

"Come take one of us!"

Reality snapped back into place.

Nora forced herself to step away.

"Coming."

As she walked toward her sister, she didn't need to look back to know Celine was watching her leave.

The morning passed in a blur of photographs. Nora captured smiling relatives beneath ancient oak trees, bridesmaids practicing their entrance, groomsmen pretending to take everything seriously before dissolving into laughter. She photographed bouquets, handwritten vows resting on antique tables, champagne glasses waiting to be filled, sunlight filtering through stained-glass windows inside the reception hall.

Everyone complimented her work.

"These are incredible."

"You have such an eye."

"We're so lucky you could do this."

She thanked them politely.

No one noticed that nearly every photograph containing Celine had been taken a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

Every frame lingered.

Every focus adjustment became an excuse.

She hated herself for it.

And she couldn't stop.

Near lunchtime, the planner announced a short break while staff rearranged the ceremony space.

People scattered toward the terrace overlooking the lake.

Nora wandered in the opposite direction.

She followed a narrow stone path leading into a quiet garden tucked behind the main building. Lavender swayed gently in the breeze. Bees drifted lazily between blossoms. The distant laughter from the terrace faded until only birdsong remained.

She raised her camera toward the flowers.

Click.

"You really do hide behind that thing."

She smiled before turning around.

"I thought we established that I don't."

Celine laughed softly.

"I don't believe you."

She stopped several feet away.

Neither of them moved closer.

Not this time.

"This place is beautiful," Nora said.

"It is."

Another pause.

"I've been trying not to be alone with you."

"I noticed."

"I'm failing."

"So am I."

The honesty between them had become almost frightening.

Neither of them had energy left for pretending.

Celine glanced toward the lavender fields.

"I almost canceled the engagement six months ago."

Nora blinked.

"What?"

"I never told anyone."

She wrapped her arms around herself against the breeze.

"I convinced myself it was just cold feet."

"Were they?"

"I don't know anymore."

Nora's heart ached.

"You don't have to tell me."

"I want to."

Celine looked at the lake beyond the trees.

"I've spent so much of my life choosing what was sensible."

Her smile carried years of quiet exhaustion.

"My parents adored Aaliyah. Our families got along perfectly. She was kind. Ambitious. We wanted similar futures."

"That sounds...good."

"It was."

"But?"

"But I kept waiting for something."

"What?"

She looked directly at Nora.

"I didn't know."

Neither of them spoke.

The answer hung quietly between them.

Until now.

A phone rang somewhere nearby.

Voices echoed faintly through the gardens.

The world kept moving while theirs remained suspended.

"Nora."

"Yeah?"

"If we'd met first..."

She didn't finish.

She didn't have to.

Nora understood anyway.

The thought itself felt dangerous.

"I keep asking myself that too," Nora admitted.

"What if we'd met a year ago?"

"Or five."

"Would anything be different?"

Celine smiled sadly.

"We'll never know."

The simplicity of that truth hurt more than either of them expected.

"Nora!"

A familiar voice called from somewhere beyond the hedges.

Both women stepped apart instinctively.

The distance between them widened.

A bridesmaid appeared around the corner.

"There you are!"

She smiled brightly.

"The planner needs more photos inside."

"Coming," Nora answered.

The bridesmaid disappeared again without noticing anything unusual.

Celine let out a slow breath.

"That was close."

"We weren't doing anything."

"No."

She looked at Nora for a long moment.

"But I wanted to."

Silence settled again.

Not filled with desire alone.

With grief.

For timing.

For circumstance.

For everything they couldn't change.

Nora tightened her grip on the camera strap.

"I don't know how much longer I can pretend."

Celine nodded slowly.

"I know."

"But we have to."

"I know."

The repetition felt cruel.

Necessary.

True.

A breeze scattered lavender petals across the path between them.

Neither woman crossed the distance.

Not today.

"I should go before someone comes looking again," Nora said quietly.

Celine gave a small nod.

"Take pictures."

"I always do."

"And, Nora?"

She paused.

"Don't delete the ones you took of me."

Nora's heart skipped.

"I wasn't planning to."

"I hoped not."

They shared one last look—gentle, lingering, painfully restrained.

Then Nora turned and walked back toward the laughter, the wedding plans, and the family that believed everything was exactly as it should be.

She lifted her camera before she reached the terrace.

Through the viewfinder, the world became orderly again.

Subjects.

Light.

Composition.

Focus.

Simple things.

But even behind the lens, she could still feel Celine's eyes on her back.

For the first time in her life, Nora realized that some stories couldn't be captured in a photograph.

Some stories lived only in the spaces between people.

In the glances no one noticed.

In the words left unsaid.

And in the impossible hope that, somehow, the ending hadn't been written yet.