Enchanted Nightfall: Falling for Destiny

The place was indeed the perfect spot for a shoot. Stepping onto the scene, Snow felt his creativity ignited like a lightbulb flickering to life.

Quintessa paid no mind to Snow’s half–serious, half–joking banter. If she had no interest in playing the flirtation game with a man, she certainly wasn’t about to entertain his every remark.

With a smile that could light up the darkest room, Quintessa said, “When your new single drops, you’d better give me a shout–out.”

Snow replied with a grin, “You know it.”

After Manny finished working his makeup magic on Quintessa, she slipped into her outfit, a pair of bare feet planting her firmly atop an abandoned car. The wind caught her crimson skirt, a flurry of red like spilled blood, and at the moment the shutter clicked, the image was frozen in time, which was a play of shadows and light. Beauty and decay, darkness and brilliance, it was as if two worlds had collided.

Though they lacked staff and a professional photographer, they still nailed it.

The music video was shot with a simple mix of wide shots and shaky, jump–cut close–ups, yet it was still stunning. Còntens bel0ngs to Nô(v)elDr/a/ma.Org

All that was left was post–production and scoring, and that would be left to Snow’s personal studio to handle.

After the shoot, Quintessa was gone, off to Zion City, racing against the clock.

Sitting in his car, Snow scrolled through the photos on his camera, again and again.

There was Quintessa, poised on the weathered, patchy car. Her frame was slender yet strong, as if she harbored a mighty force within. Her shadow stretched out on the ground, monstrous, brimming with vigorous life, as if nothing could bring her down.

Snow turned to Tony and said, “She’s breathtaking, isn’t she?”

Tony, almost reflexively, nodded while muttering, “As stunning as she is, she’s not gonna turn me straight.”

Snow’s gaze never left the photos of Quintessa: “You were born this way, I like it, and that’s enough.”

Tony, surprised, blurted out, “Are you serious?”

Snow affirmed, “Yes, I really like her!”

“Mr. York, Ms. Quintessa Young has headed back to Zion City,” James reported carefully, wary of his phrasing.

It had been a week since Tyrone had poured over Quintessa’s files, and he still hadn’t fully recovered from the shock.

Whenever he had a moment to himself, Quintessa’s face would haunt him–cold, fierce, like a blade forged and tempered in flames.

And her words echoed in his ears–Don’t fall in love with me!

Tyrone felt like he was on the verge of a breakdown.

The initial panic slowly subsided, yet he still lacked the courage to face Quintessa, which was a knot in his

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heart that wouldn’t untie.

Though for days, he’d found himself drawn to the building where she lived.

But what could he do if he went up?

Apologize?

Could he even bring himself to say it?

If not to apologize, then what?

What could he possibly say to her face to face?

Tyrone was in turmoil every day, desperate for advice but too ashamed to speak of it.

Noticing Tyrone’s distraction, James called out twice, “Mr. York, Mr. York.”

Tyrone snapped back to reality: “Alright, I got it.”

Knowing she was off to Zion City again, Tyrone frowned.

Seeing his boss’s mind elsewhere, James ventured, “Mr. York, there’s another thing. Miss Rachel Young has been trying to reach you through me.”

The mention of Rachel’s name sent a chill over Tyrone’s face, his lips drawing into a thin, harsh line, “Tell her to stay as far away from me as possible.”

The name Rachel sparked more than just anger in Tyrone now. Thinking about what the Young family had done to Quintessa, he felt his blood boil with a rage that bordered on murderous.

James cautiously added, “I’ve told her to back off, but.”