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Beyond the Portrait
Chapter 1 - Through the Lens

Chapter 1 - Through the Lens

"In photography, the negative space is just as important as the subject. It's what gives meaning to what's present by highlighting what's absent."

The steady click of Helena Mello's camera filled her downtown Los Angeles studio, each shot identical to the last. Perfect lighting. Perfect composition. Perfectly boring. The luxury skincare product gleamed under the studio lights, its generic elegance exactly what her client wanted – and exactly what made her want to scream in Portuguese under her breath.

"That's a wrap," she called out, lowering her camera. Her assistant, Tom, was already dimming the lights and checking the monitor. The sleeve of tattoos on her left arm caught the fading studio light as she moved, an intricate story of her life inked in black and grey. "Send the client the usual three options. They'll pick the safest one anyway."

Marine layer fog pressed against the industrial windows of her converted warehouse studio in the Arts District, a fitting backdrop to her mood. Helena's gaze drifted to the cardboard box tucked in the corner of her office, "David's Stuff" scrawled across it in her hasty handwriting. Three years of relationship reduced to a box of charging cables, worn paperbacks, and a Lakers hoodie she'd stolen so many times it had practically become hers.

"You know you can take a few days off," Tom said, his voice gentle. "The skincare people aren't exactly pushing artistic boundaries here."

Helena managed a small smile, running a hand through her curly brown hair. At six feet tall, she towered over Tom, but his big-brother energy always made her feel protected. "What would I do? Sit at home and reorganize my sock drawer again?" She began breaking down her lighting setup, muscle memory taking over. "Besides, I have the Vertex Fashion shoot next week. That's actually interesting."

"About that..." Tom's hesitation made her pause. "Their model just called. Food poisoning or something. They need a replacement."

Helena felt her carefully constructed routine cracking. The Vertex shoot wasn't just interesting – it was her chance to break into high-end fashion photography. She'd spent weeks planning the concept, pushing beyond her commercial comfort zone into something edgier, more artistic. "Please tell me you're joking."

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"Already working on it," Tom assured her, phone in hand. "There's this new model, Zaniyah Di Palma. She's been making waves in the indie scene. Different look than what Vertex usually goes for, but..." He held up his phone, showing Helena a stunning Italian woman with sharp cheekbones, ash black eyes, and a small mole beside her right eye that somehow made her look both innocent and mysterious.

Helena found herself studying the image longer than necessary. There was something magnetic about the model's gaze, a defiance that made her want to capture it, understand it. The small scar on her own chest seemed to tingle, a reminder of her own hidden stories. "Different could be good," she heard herself say. "See if she's available."

Later, after Tom had left and the fog had settled into a steady blanket over the city, Helena finally forced herself to deal with the box. Each item she pulled out carried its own weight of memory: the hoodie from their first Lakers game together, the book of poetry he'd never finished reading, the photos she'd taken of them in happier times. The pictures were technically perfect – well-composed, beautifully lit, carefully posed. Just like their relationship had been. Just like everything in her life had become.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Tom: "Z. Di Palma confirmed for next week. Sending her portfolio now."

Helena set down the hoodie she'd been holding and opened the portfolio link. Image after image showed Zaniyah in various settings, each one more striking than the last. The bright moon tattoo visible on her upper left side in one artistic nude shot seemed to echo the infinity sign barely visible at the nape of her neck in another. There was nothing safe about her work – she transformed in front of the camera, vulnerable one moment, fierce the next. Helena's fingers itched for her camera just looking at the photos.

The last of David's things went into the box, and Helena sealed it with packing tape, the sound sharp and final in the quiet studio. Tomorrow she'd drop it off at his new place, another task checked off her endless to-do list. But for now, she opened her laptop and began sketching out new concepts for the Vertex shoot, her mind filled with possibilities she hadn't let herself consider before.

A message popped up from the agency: "Ms. Di Palma is excited to work with you. She mentioned she just moved here from Naples."

Helena smiled, remembering her own journey from São Paulo years ago. Maybe it was time for something different. Something real.

The fog continued to press against her windows, but somehow the studio felt warmer than before.

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