But when Soraya stepped onto the set, the crew went silent.

She wore a fitted, long-sleeved black blouse tucked into soft gray trousers. No excessive makeup, just muted tones that brought out the sharpness of her eyes. Her lips were painted in a soft berry tint, and her hair was parted to the side, falling in graceful waves.

She didn’t look cute. She looked composed. Untouchable.

Like a femme fatale met a scholar.

Reian stared for a full beat.

"I thought you didn’t like being looked at," he said.

She adjusted an earring. “I like photography. Being part of it is fun.”

The shoot began.

While other couples played around, made hearts with their hands, or giggled through kisses, Reian and Soraya stood close, unsmiling at first.

She tilted her chin, narrowed her eyes slightly, one foot angled toward the lens. Controlled elegance. A subtle arch of her brow. A soft parting of her lips.

Then she smiled.

It wasn’t wide. It was graceful, real. And in that instant, her eyes softened, brightened—like winter sunlight breaking through morning fog.

Reian forgot the camera. He stared. And the camera caught that too.

Click.

One photo showed her mid-smile, the warmth in her gaze unmistakable. Another captured Reian staring at her, completely unaware of the lens.

By the time the shoot ended, whispers filled the crew.

“That chemistry…" “Is she a model?” “I didn’t know he had that in him.”

---

Later that night, the edited preview photos were sent out privately.

Reian scrolled through them slowly.

Her smile. His gaze.

No one had expected it. Not the fans. Not the band. Not even him.

He shut off the screen and leaned back against the headboard.

She didn’t do anything flashy, he thought. She just showed up.

And somehow, the whole game changed.