— Captured Moments
Vi had taken countless photos in her life. Strangers in passing, buildings worn by time, fleeting moments that most people would never notice. But this was the first time she couldn’t stop thinking about a single image.
The photo of Eve lingered in her mind long after she returned home. She had stared at it on her camera screen for longer than she cared to admit, analyzing the way the sunlight caught in her hair, the relaxed yet distant expression on her face, as if she existed in a world separate had taken countless photos in her life. Strangers in passing, buildings worn by time, fleeting moments that most people would never notice. But this was the first time she couldn’t stop thinking about a single image.
She told herself it was just curiosity. She had always been drawn to things that felt slightly out of place, and Eve was exactly that—someone who didn’t quite fit into the rhythm of the campus, someone who seemed to move at her own pace. It was natural to want to capture that. Nothing more.
At least, that’s what she told herself.
That evening, Vi sat on her bed, scrolling through the photos on her laptop. The only light in her room came from the screen, casting a cool glow on her face. Outside, the distant hum of cars blended with the occasional bark of a dog. The house was quiet—at least, for now.
Then, a series of loud thuds came from the hallway, followed by a dramatic knock on her door.
“Vi! Open up! It’s an emergency!”
Vi sighed. “What kind of emergency?”
“The very important kind!”
Before she could react, the door flew open, and Powder marched in, a bag of gummy bears in one hand and a smug grin on her face. She hopped onto Vi’s bed without hesitation, lying across it dramatically.
Vi gave her a tired look. “You know, knocking usually means waiting for a response.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Powder said, waving a hand dismissively. “Anyway, my emergency is that I’m bored. Entertain me.”
Vi turned back to her laptop. “Go bother someone else.”
Powder sat up, peering at the screen. “What’re you looking at?”
Vi hesitated, too slow to close it before Powder caught a glimpse of Eve’s photo. Her little sister’s eyes widened.
“Ooooh.” She grinned. “Who’s that?”
“No one,” Vi said quickly, but Powder had already scooted closer, examining the image like a detective solving a case.
“She looks kinda weird,” Powder mused, tilting her head. “But, like, in a cool way. You know, like one of those paintings where some people see a lady and others see a duck.”
Vi blinked. “What?”
“You know what I mean!” Powder pointed at the screen. “She’s got that… mysterious vibe. Like she might be a vampire or something.”
Vi sighed. “She’s not a vampire, Powder.”
“Are you sure? Have you seen her in direct sunlight?”
Vi groaned, rubbing her temples. “Please leave.”
Powder ignored her, stuffing a handful of gummy bears into her mouth. “Sooo, are you gonna talk to her again? Or just stare at the picture like a creep?”
Vi groaned again. “Why does everyone say that?”
Powder cackled. “Because it’s true.”
Vi sighed, leaning back against her pillows. “I don’t know. She’s… different.”
Powder wiggled her eyebrows. “Different how?”
Vi hesitated, searching for the right words. “She doesn’t just exist the way most people do. She’s like… a still moment in a moving world.”
Powder blinked. “Okay, that was kinda poetic.”
Vi smirked. “Shut up.”
Powder nudged her playfully. “You should talk to her again.”
Vi glanced at the screen one last time before closing her laptop.
“…Maybe.”
Powder gasped. “Oh my God, you have a crush.”
Vi grabbed the nearest pillow and smacked her with it.
Powder, laughing, rolled off the bed in an exaggerated dodge. “Just admit it! You’re smitten!”
Vi threw another pillow at her, but Powder caught it and tossed it back. “Fine, fine, I’ll leave you to your brooding. But if you start writing poetry about her, I want to be the first to read it.”
Vi scoffed. “Not happening.”
Powder gave her a knowing grin as she walked out, wiggling her fingers dramatically. “We’ll seeee.”
The door shut behind her, and Vi let out a long breath, staring at her laptop.
“…Not happening,” she muttered again, but the words felt less certain this time.
📷
The next afternoon, Vi found herself back near the central garden. She told herself she wasn’t looking for Eve, that she was just out for another walk, but she knew better.
And then, just like yesterday, she spotted her.
Eve sat on the same weathered bench, beneath the dappled shade of the tree, her notebook balanced on her lap. She wore a different sweater today—this one a deep navy blue, the sleeves slightly oversized, covering part of her hands. She wasn’t writing, just flipping through the pages, lost in whatever thoughts filled the space between the ink.
Vi hesitated. She wasn’t usually this uncertain about approaching people. But Eve wasn’t like the usual people she photographed. There was something unreadable about her, something that made Vi question if she was capturing Eve as she really was or just as Vi wanted to see her.
Taking a breath, she walked over.
“You again,” Eve said without looking up.
Vi smirked, taking that as an invitation to sit beside her. “You sound surprised.”
Eve turned a page. “Not really.”
Vi rested her camera on her lap, watching her. “Do you always sit here?”
Eve shrugged. “Do you always go around taking pictures of strangers?”
“Only the interesting ones,” Vi said easily.
Eve glanced at her then, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. “And what makes me so interesting?”
Vi opened her mouth, then hesitated. She could have given a dozen different answers—the way the light hit her, the way she seemed both present and somewhere else entirely, the way Vi couldn’t quite figure her out—but none of them felt right to say out loud.
Instead, she lifted her camera slightly. “Mind if I take another?”
Eve huffed a quiet laugh but didn’t say no. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, as if considering it.
“What do you even do with all the pictures you take?” she asked.
Vi thought about it. “Some go into my portfolio. Some I keep just because I like them.”
“And mine?”
Vi adjusted the focus, lining up the shot. “Still deciding.”
She snapped the picture just as Eve blinked, her expression unreadable. Vi lowered the camera, glancing at the image. It was different from yesterday’s—less distant, more aware.
Eve leaned in to look at the screen. “Well?”
Vi smiled. “I think I’ll keep this one.”
Eve didn’t respond right away. She just watched Vi for a moment, then looked back at her notebook.
“You didn’t ask for my name,” she said after a beat.
Vi leaned back on the bench, resting her arms on the backrest. “Didn’t seem like you wanted to give it yesterday.”
Eve hummed in agreement. “I don’t usually.”
Vi raised a brow. “But?”
A small pause. Then, quietly, Eve said, “Eve.”
Vi let the name settle in her mind before nodding.
“I’m Vi.”
Eve glanced at her, a knowing look in her eyes. “I know.”
Vi blinked, caught off guard. “You do?”
“You’re not exactly subtle,” Eve said, tapping the camera. “And people talk.”
Vi groaned. “Great. What do they say?”
Eve smirked slightly. “That you’re the weird photographer who takes pictures of things no one else cares about.”
Vi snorted. “Sounds about right.”
Eve turned another page in her notebook, her expression thoughtful. “I think that’s a good thing.”
Vi tilted her head. “Yeah?”
Eve nodded. “Most people only look at what they’re supposed to. You look at everything else.”
Vi wasn’t sure why, but something about that made her chest feel strangely light.
She didn’t know much about Eve yet, but she was certain of one thing—this wouldn’t be the last photo she took of her.
And for the first time in a long while, she didn’t just want to capture a moment.
She wanted to understand it.
Eve wasn’t beautiful in the way people expected. She wasn’t soft edges and familiar symmetry. She was something else entirely—something untamed, something striking, something that refused to be confined to ordinary definitions.
Her features were sharp, almost otherworldly, as if she had been sculpted by hands that didn’t care for convention. Her eyes, dark and unreadable, held entire stories within them, as if she had seen things no one else had. The way she carried herself—deliberate but unbothered—made her seem like she belonged to a different time, or maybe a different world altogether.
Vi had spent years looking for beauty in overlooked places, but Eve wasn’t something you overlooked. She was the kind of beauty that made people uncomfortable, because they didn’t know how to categorize it. And yet, Vi couldn’t look away.
Because it wasn’t just beauty.
It was presence.
And Vi had never wanted to capture anything more.