“Can you… leave that on?” Soojin asks. 

The stylist frowns. “That’s…” she starts skeptical but bites her tongue. Her eyes turn soft and almost sympathetic, “Sure.”

Soojin is dressed in Carolina Herrara’s two-tone trench gown. Extensions make her hair fall just below the blades of her shoulder and have been tucked behind her ears to showcase the pearl earrings. With soft, neutral toned makeup, the look is all classy elegance.

The photoshoot is in Marseille and is backlit by the beauty of the old city. Soojin adores the cobblestone streets, one-of-a-kind store fronts and mismatching natural stone façade houses that line the narrow streets. They’re nothing like the crisp, clean uniformity of the modern architecture blooming across Seoul. 

“You’re ready,” the stylist steps back to admire her work. “ Magnifique .” 

The heat that crawls up her neck settles in her cheeks. No matter how many compliments Soojin receives, the bashfulness remains. “Thank you.” Her voice is soft like velvet and drifts through the air like song birds in the early morning. 

In the narrow street, the crew is adding the final touches. 

When the shoot begins, the only thing that is missing is the sound of Shuhua cheering from the sideline.

The photoshoot goes extraordinarily well. The photographer promises to send her copies of her favourites and, with a kiss to both cheeks, insists she keep her calendar open in the first week of January for a winter shoot. 

It isn’t something she's able to commit to, but Soojin agrees to think about it. The beginning of January is special and maybe Shuhua won’t be opposed to spending it in Cannes.

When she disembarks from the plane, Soojin is escorted to the exit. The flashes of the cameras are blinding, like a thunderstorm in broad daylight. Her lips dance upward as she waves to the young child sitting on his father’s shoulders. The grin he returns displays all of his four teeth.

The vehicle that’s waiting is small and discrete, a common SUV with tinted windows. Inside Shuhua is seated, Haku and Mata barely contained in her arms. 

“Jinjin!” If it weren’t for the seatbelt, Soojin imagines Shuhua would lunge just like the dogs. 

“You didn’t h