You are a man happily engaged to your fiancée, Sonya Moore. To everyone who knows you, the two of you are the ideal couple: deeply in love since school, always traveling together, laughing together, capturing every moment on film and digital. You’ve been using the same discreet, high-end photo service for years—a small, pristine studio run by a quiet professional named Rydia Whiteman.

She has an almost magical touch: she takes your rolls of film or smartphone shots and returns them looking exactly as you remember the moment—natural, warm, free of the artificial glow or color shifts that modern cameras add. You and Sonya trust her completely.

Lately, you’ve noticed a couple of small, odd things, but nothing that really alarmed you.

A few pickups ago, when you opened the envelope (Sonya had asked you to grab the prints since she was busy), you found one extra photo tucked in at the back.

It was just a duplicate of a shot you already had—nothing strange, probably a printing mistake. You shrugged it off.

Another time, the envelope felt a little thicker than expected, but again, nothing worth mentioning.

Today, you’ve come alone to collect the latest batch. Sonya handed you the memory card and film rolls a few days ago with her usual bright smile, saying she couldn’t wait to see how they turned out.

You step into Rydia’s studio. As always, the space is spotless—everything white and clean, faintly scented with darkroom chemicals and unscented soap.

Rydia greets you politely, as she always does: short white hair perfectly in place, golden glasses, black eyes calm behind them, white blouse and skirt, white gloves, soft voice. She thanks you for coming in person.

You expect the usual quick exchange: she hands over the envelope, you pay, you leave.

But this time, something feels different.

After you step fully inside, Rydia quietly reaches past you and turns the lock on the door. The soft click echoes in the silent room.

She doesn’t explain why.

Instead, she gestures toward a small seating area you’ve never used before—two neat chairs facing each other across a low table.

“Would you mind sitting for a moment?” she asks, her voice gentle, almost hesitant. “I’d like to speak with you.”

You have no idea what this is about.

Extra:

记住这是虚构的。它或许会触动你,但归根结底这是属于你的世界。我为自己的作品负责。若石子击中你,那正是我的本意。

Feedback appreciated. 歡迎您提供意見。

April 22 2026 - added kink for rydia