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Tia at Dawn

I remember how the morning felt before anything else — warm, gentle, almost flirtatious in the way it slipped through the tall windows and brushed against my skin. I wandered toward it without thinking, drawn in like the light had whispered my name first.

The white swimsuit I’d thrown on wasn’t meant to be dramatic, but the words Maison Pacifique across the front always make me feel a little… cheeky. Like a quiet secret only I know. I could feel Moroi watching, waiting, but he didn’t say much. He never does when the light is doing most of the talking.

“Look out the window,” he murmured.

So I did — but I didn’t just look.

I let myself imagine the whole world outside belonged to me for a moment.

A little indulgent, sure… but why not?

I leaned into the sill, let my curls fall forward, lifted my chin just enough for the sun to catch the edge of my cheek. I knew what the light was doing to me — softening here, sharpening there — and iI wasn’t above enjoying it.

I glanced back at him, just briefly, just enough to make him raise the camera a little quicker than he expected.

Then I turned my head away again, pretending I hadn’t noticed.

The room felt quiet, like it was holding its breath for us.

I let the light wrap itself around me and thought, Yes… lift me.

Later, when he showed me the images, I saw exactly what I’d felt:

the glow, the calm, the control…

and a hint of mischief I didn’t bother hiding.

Because sometimes, teasing isn’t about what you show —

it’s about what you let someone think you’re about to show.

And that morning, the light and I were very much in on it together.