Part 3New Focus

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.”