"Yep, perfect." The photographer gave Amy a thumbs-up. "New pose — try sitting the other way on the chair." Amy shifted smoothly, her expression effortlessly striking.
Her eyes drifted past Sandra and landed on Glenda — and stayed there.
Her right eye twitched. The whole studio turned to look at Glenda.
"Hey, what was that?" Sandra asked, curious.
Glenda stood frozen, equal parts amazed and unsettled. "If I knew, I'd tell you," she muttered, staring back at Amy like she was trying to read her soul.
"Okay, everyone — focus!" Sandra clapped, snapping attention back to Amy.
The shoot wrapped on schedule. Sandra buried herself in shot selection while Glenda sat beside her, sipping an americano. Amy sat with the makeup artists, getting touch-ups, eyes fixed on Glenda the whole time.
"I think these five shots will work for the ad and the magazine cover. What do you think, Glenda?"
Glenda barely looked up. "Yeah, yeah, sounds good." She kept sipping. Sandra nodded along, though Glenda's "approval" was — as usual — basically nothing.
"So... how long have you two been working with Sandra and Glenda?" Amy asked the makeup artists, curiosity simmering under her composed exterior.
"Uh, not totally sure — maybe two years now?" one of them said.
Amy turned to her directly. "Then you must know their likes and dislikes pretty well."
The artist jumped, dropping a brush. "Um—" She glanced at her coworker, then back at Amy. "Not exactly, but... fair enough, I guess."
"Then tell me — what does Glenda love to eat most?" The question planted a small seed of doubt in both their minds. They exchanged a look. "She... kind of likes everything? Nothing specific comes to mind."
"You should ask Sandra. They've known each other forever," the other added.
Amy let that go — she already knew it was a myth. They looked close, but in reality they barely knew more than each other's first names. "I'll figure it out myself," she said. "They're... pretty useless, honestly."
*And honestly, Amy? Can't argue with that.*
Standing at the studio gate, Amy stared at the darkening sky, sighing out her exhaustion. Sandra spotted her on the way to her car. "Hey, Amy — you're still here?"
"Couldn't find a taxi," Amy said quietly.
Sandra looked around. "That's rough — everyone left early today. Why didn't you? Practicing again?"
"No, not this time."
Sandra glanced toward her car. "Want a ride home?"
"Oh — no, that's okay. I'll wait a bit longer."
"Longer? If I leave now, you'll be out here alone. What if something happens? C'mon, I'll drop you off."
"It's just... my place is really far. By the time you get home, it'll be completely dark."
Her hesitation only made Sandra smile. Without another word, she took Amy's hand and led her to the car.
"Sandra, wait—"
"Distance doesn't matter to me, as long as you get home safe. Get in." Amy stared at her for a moment, stunned, before breaking into a smile and climbing in.
"Do you always leave this late?"
"Yeah. Once everyone's gone, I double-check everything — just in case. By then it's usually dark."
"And Glenda?"
"She bolts the second we wrap. Always in some kind of rush."
Amy laughed. "She's not exactly the homemaker type. What's the rush about?"
"She says she's got a cat family she looks after. Total excuse to dodge cleanup, if you ask me." Sandra rolled her eyes. Amy noticed, smiling faintly to herself.
"So she's a cat person."
"More of an animal person, probably. Unlike me — I just think cats are cute."
"That's so you. I'm not really a pet person myself, but I like seeing them taken care of."
Sandra glanced at her. Something about that didn't quite sit right — like it circled back to something specific without naming it. She let it go and kept driving.
"Oh — right there, that's my place." Amy pointed, and Sandra pulled up by the gate.
Amy gave a small nod as she got out. Sandra waited until she disappeared inside, then drove off the moment a light flicked on upstairs.
Amy flopped onto her bed, staring at the ceiling, arms crossed behind her head.
*Sandra... she really is something. No wonder Glenda thinks so highly of her.*
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
"Hey — where've you been?" Sandra froze mid-shoe-removal, looking up to find Glenda glaring at her, arms crossed.
"Glenda? What are you doing in my house?" Sandra grumbled, stepping inside with her shoes still on.
"Shoes off! Shoes off! You're tracking germs everywhere!" Glenda shrieked. Startled, Sandra kicked her shoes back toward the door.
"Good girl." Glenda patted her shoulder. "Now — answer me. What are you doing here this late?"
"Excuse me? Is this how you treat a friend? What's wrong with visiting your own house?"
"Have you ever once answered a question without arguing first?"
"Sure I have. You just never counted."
"Answer. Now."
"Ugh, fine!"
"...?"
"I couldn't sleep in that empty, creepy condo, Sandra!"
"...That's literally your condo, Glenda."
"Whatever — just let me crash here tonight!"
"No. The guest room's a mess."
"Then your—"
"No. Absolutely not your body in my room."
"Psycho! Fine, I'll take the sofa."
"Fine. Just for tonight."
"Thanks~"
"Shut up."
Sandra headed upstairs to shower while Glenda took over the kitchen, heating packaged dumplings and noodles. She set the table carefully — fresh lilies in a vase at the center, candles flickering around them.
She paused, frowning. "Should add a side dish." She checked the fridge. "If only there was something..." She sighed, pulling a face.
She grabbed two plain bowls and mixed sweet yogurt with swollen basil seeds, topping it with neatly sliced mango.
"Will this even taste good?" she muttered. "Let's hope."
"What are you muttering about?" Sandra asked from behind. Glenda jumped, smiling sheepishly. Sandra just shrugged it off.
She stopped at the table, eyes widening. "Wow — you made all this yourself, Glenda?"
"Who else would?" Glenda said, smug. "Bet you didn't expect dinner to look this romantic."
Sandra raised an eyebrow, scanning her up and down. "Please. Those words sound so wrong coming from you, Grandma."
"Hey! Who're you calling 'Grandma'?"
"You. Obviously."
Glenda huffed, looking away. Sandra smirked and sat down. "Relax, I'm kidding."
"I know that." Glenda said loftily. "Try the garlic pickle — my aunt sent it this morning." Sandra picked up a piece of the emerald-green garlic and took a bite, eyes widening in surprise.
"Mm — goes really well with the dumplings."
"Right? Bit tangy too."
"I guess that's the flavor."
"Mm."
Conversation flowed easily until the clinking of chopsticks slowed, attention shifting to the last dish beside them.
Sandra picked up her spoon, stirring it through the bowl thoughtfully. "What's this?"
"Mango yogurt dessert."
"Never heard of it."
"Because I made it up. Stop questioning and try it."
"You first."
"Creators don't taste their own work first."
Sandra narrowed her eyes and took the first bite anyway. Sweet, smooth, a little unexpected.
"Well? Edible?"
"...Not bad. Edible, at least."
"Phew."
"Would've been better with just mango, or just yogurt. But — not a total disaster."
"Whatever, it's edible. That's the bar."
"You never listen."
While Sandra kept eating, Glenda loaded the dishwasher and sat back down, chin propped on her hand. "Hey — do you really think you and Amy can take the collab with the ranking companies?"
"I do," Sandra said without hesitation. "I believe in her modeling and my designs. The next show is ours."
Even with that confidence in her voice, something else nagged at her. Glenda just watched her keep eating — the dessert getting tangier with every bite — without saying a word about it.
"The more you eat, the tangier it gets," Glenda said finally.
Caught, Sandra grinned sheepishly. "...You saw through me."
"Ages ago. I was just enjoying the performance. Not bad, by the way."
"Stop it."