Nov's life had completely changed. She, who once loved discovering new places and traveling frequently, now lived as if her world existed through a single window. Her days were reduced to work, home, and the rare moments she could escape to the shore to breathe while listening to music, temporarily disconnecting from the world. Crowds, narrow spaces, distant cities, and travel only brought her pain and panic.
One night, lying in bed with Evgeny Grinko's Valse playing in her ears, she stared at the ceiling in the darkness, completely cut off from the world. Suddenly, a memory surfaced: the night she had spoken with Veyra. She remembered the feeling that brief conversation had given her. Then she remembered she needed to send the photos to Veyra. "Really, Nov? Weeks have passed…" she muttered to herself.
While lying there, she sent the photos. A reply came almost immediately. Veyra said she didn't like the shots; they were terrible. Nov was surprised. The images were beautiful. Yet Veyra didn't want them published. Nov panicked. Really? Would the one-day shoot have to be repeated? She realized she had to convince Veyra, or the whole process would start over. Exhausted from an already draining task, Nov knew she had no choice.
She suggested a face-to-face discussion. "Let's talk, then decide," she said. Veyra agreed, saying she was available the next day. Nov was unprepared. They eventually scheduled it for two days later. The day arrived. They would meet at a café to reach an agreement about the work.
But Nov's panic flared. She hadn't been in a social setting for a long time. The thought of being around people made her uneasy. She considered canceling. Veyra, irritated at the last-minute hesitation, insisted. Nov needed to resolve this quickly; the images had to be uploaded to the website. She offered that Veyra could come to her house, where they were very close to each other, to discuss the matter. Veyra accepted.
When she arrived, Nov was disheveled. Oversized pants, a loose T-shirt, and hair tied messily with a pen. She invited Veyra inside. They began discussing the issue. Nov argued that the photos were perfect; there was no flaw. Together, they reviewed the images on the laptop. Nov managed to convince Veyra, and the work was settled.
Veyra was curious and seemed reluctant to leave. Nov, focused on finishing the recipe she had to write, asked for a short pause. Her brother arrived home. While Nov continued working, Veyra and her brother bonded, chatting for hours. Nov occasionally glanced at her. For the first time, she saw a different side of Veyra — warm, genuine, nothing like the attention-seeking person she had known.
After her brother left, Veyra still lingered, listening to music. Nov finished her work and decided to see where Veyra was. She moved through the rooms and finally reached her own, door slightly open. She stopped at the edge. Veyra was there, sitting on the floor in front of the bookshelf, reading a book she had taken from it. Her posture was elegant, movements graceful. Nov stood silently, captivated by feelings she had never experienced.
She looked so aesthetically perfect that Nov made no sound, just watched. This was no longer the playful, mischievous Veyra; something more profound surrounded her. It was as if a glow, a presence, a soul encircled her. Nov observed this aura, realizing she had never seen anything so beautiful.
Veyra wrote notes on the pages she was reading. Then, using the pen as a hair clip, she tied her hair back and continued reading. Nov simply watched, immersed in his changing emotions. He even took out his phone and captured a photo of Veyra. Now he wanted to approach her. Slowly, he moved closer.
"Which book did you choose?" he asked.
Veyra answered, and Nov sat beside her. He couldn't take his eyes off her. He had never seen anything like this in anyone. Veyra spoke her thoughts, and Nov just listened, watching intently. Something inside him shifted; a feeling he couldn't comprehend. And he felt it just by looking at her.
For the first time, Nov truly looked at Veyra. In that moment, she saw her soul. And he captured it—the soul he had photographed, frozen in that instant.