Cinderfknrella (Patreon)

Indie Light

The church near Winchester had that dreamy, end-of-day glow — the kind where every surface looks warmer than it should, like the evening sun is trying to flirt with the stone. The wooden benches at the entrance were lit up with those little scattered patches of light, dappled and soft, painting me in patterns every time I shifted.

I dropped onto one of the benches, letting one foot rest on the ground while the other folded up beside me. Casual. Effortless. A little bit mischievous. My red-orange hair bounced in its two ponytails as I settled, catching sparks of sunlight every time I tipped my head.

I could feel Moroi watching me through the lens, even before he lifted the camera.

He loves when I pretend not to notice.

I touched my bottom lip with one finger — lightly, thoughtfully, but let’s be honest, deliberately. The kind of small gesture that could pass for contemplation… or temptation… depending on who’s looking.

“Relax into the light,” Moroi said.

Relax.

As if I wasn’t already letting the sunlight claim me however it pleased.

I leaned back a little, letting the shadows trace the floral pattern on my dress and the black tights hugging my legs. The bench creaked beneath me — old wood, old stories — but I let my posture tell the new one. Confident. Soft. A bit rebellious. All at once.

The evening light warmed my cheeks, brushed my shoulders, threaded itself through my hair like it had been waiting all day just to catch me sitting here. Every little glimmer felt intentional… or maybe that was just how I chose to sit in it.

I glanced at Moroi then — slow, sideways, teasing — watching him adjust the frame to follow the sunlight sliding across my skin.

“You sure it’s the light you want me to relax into?” I murmured.

He pretended he didn’t hear me.

I pretended that wasn’t the answer I wanted.

Later, he’d boost the warm tones, deepen the shadows, make the whole moment look cinematic.

But sitting there on that weathered bench, with the sun slipping toward the horizon and a soft breeze tugging at my dress?

I already felt like I belonged to the light.

Or maybe the light belonged to me.

Either way…

the scene knew exactly who was in control.