Chapter 13
In the early hours of that very night;
I strapped on my heavy photography gear and met up with my friend for a night hike.
The mountain trail was steep and uneven.
Each breath I exhaled turned into white mist in the cold air.
At the moment dawn broke, I captured a powerful series of sunrise shots.
The first beam of morning light tore through the clouds,
as if drawing open the curtain on a brand–new chapter of my life.
I posted my favorite shot on social media.
I never expected it to blow up.
People were deeply moved by the raw vitality in the photo–the feeling of breaking free from darkness.
Likes and shares poured in.
I didn’t let the momentum go to waste.
While the buzz was still hot, I posted the series of red aurora photos I’d taken in Aurora Falls, blazing and powerful, like a
phoenix rising from the ashes.
That was when my account truly exploded.
At thirty years old, I finally carved out a small but real name for myself in the photography world.
It wasn’t just recognition of my skills.
It felt more like fate, arriving late–but finally answering.
Riding that wave, I opened my own studio: Penelope Carter Photography Studio.
On opening day, an unexpected guest walked in.
Sophie Vanderbilt is a well–known local socialite and the daughter of a prominent business family.
Elegant and soft–spoken, she wanted me to photograph her wedding portraits.
I was thrilled.
If I could do this well, with her connections and Influence, future clients would practically line up on their own.
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So I poured my entire heart into it–researching, planning, tailoring a concept that matched her temperament perfectly.
I spent an entire night just on the storyboard and location design, striving for absolute perfection.
However, on the third day. Sophie came to see me again–this time with an apologetic expression.
“Ms. Carter… I’m very sorry,” she said gently.
“I may not be able to have you shoot my wedding photos after all. The deposit I paid–please keep it as a cancellation
fee.”
I froze for a second.
My heart sank hard–but I still maintained a professional smile.
“Ms. Vanderbilt,” I asked softly,
“May I ask what the reason is? Was there something about the proposal that didn’t meet your expectations?”
She hesitated, clearly conflicted, then decided to be honest.
“I mentioned you to my fiancé… and he said he’d heard of you. Your ex–husband, Hunter, is quite well–known in their
circle. And you…”
She paused, sympathy flickering in her eyes.
“Some of your past experiences–they know about them too.”
She continued carefully.
“He said that while your reaction to his infidelity may have been understandable, the issue is that… you yourself had a
failed marriage.”
“He worries that someone whose own marriage didn’t succeed might struggle to truly understand or capture the
happiness within a marriage-
and might not be able to photograph the kind of sweetness we’re hoping for.”
I listened quietly.
Under the table, my fingers curled slightly–then slowly relaxed.
So that was it.
Even after the divorce, the past still the past still lingered like a shadow.
I didn’t rush to defend myself.
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I didn’t vent or complain.
I took a deep breath, lifted my head, and looked at her calmly and sincerely.
“Ms. Vanderbilt, thank you for being honest. I understand your fiancé’s concerns.”
“But I’d like to clarify one thing.”
“As a photographer, I’ve never tried to capture an abstract concept like ‘a happy marriage.‘ What I capture are happy
people–two people in love, in a real, unguarded moment of genuine emotion.”
“Yes, my own marriage failed. That’s true. But my life has held countless moments of happiness. Through my lens, I’ve
witnessed and preserved many other people’s joyful moments as well.”
“My marital failure and my ability to recognize and capture happiness are two completely separate things.”
Meeting her eyes, I continued,
“I believe you didn’t decide to get married because you were certain the future would be perfect.”
“On the contrary, it’s because you feel happiness right now that you chose marriage. Isn’t that true?”
“Happiness comes first. Marriage is just what grows out of it. What went wrong for me was simply the outcome of that
particular relationship.
“But when I chose to get married back then, the hope and excitement I felt were no different from what you’re feeling
now.”
“Of course,” I added gently, giving her full respect, “you have every right to choose a photographer who makes both you
and your fiancé feel completely comfortable. Whatever your final decision is, I respect it.”
After a moment of silence, the hesitation in Sophie’s eyes softened.
She nodded lightly.
“Ms. Carter… I understand what you’re saying. I’ll think it over.”
After she left, Luna–who’d been holding her breath the entire time–slumped her shoulders and sighed.
“Well… so much for a sure thing. It slipped right through our fingers. Prejudice in this industry is really hard to break.”
I turned around, patted her shoulder, and smiled instead.
“It’s fine. Life has a high tolerance for trial and error. If one road doesn’t work, we take another.”
“Worst case, we shut down the studio. I can always go freelance, travel the world with my camera, and be even freer.”
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Just then, my phone lit up with a new message.
It was from the couple I’d met under the aurora in Aurora Falls.
[Penny! We saw your post on Instagram. Congrats on opening your studio!]
[We absolutely loved the photos you took of us last time! We’ve already printed them and hung them in our future
home!]
[And… we’re getting married soon! We were hoping to talk to you about engagement photos and wedding photos. Do you
have availability?“]
My friend and I exchanged a look.
The next second, we screamed and hugged each other, jumping in place.
This is amazing!!”
See?
Just when it feels like you’ve hit a dead end, life opens another door–and the light comes rushing back in.
Chapter 13
