Page 1 of Boards & Betrayal

Chapter 1

Ally

The hum of the studio lights buzzed in the background as I unboxed the light stands and reflectors, placing them in their designated spots with the precision of a well-rehearsed routine. The early May sun filtered through the high windows, casting long shadows that danced on the polished concrete floor. My hands moved, adjusting tripods and testing bulbs, but my mind felt distant, like I was watching someone else perform these tasks.

"Ally, can you get the backdrop ready?" Carl’s voice broke through my fog. He stood by his desk, rifling through a stack of client portfolios.

"Yeah, sure," I replied, my voice sounding hollow even to myself. I crossed the room to where the backdrops were stored, pulling out a deep blue one that always seemed to photograph well. The fabric was cool and smooth against my fingertips as I clipped it into place.

Carl’s footsteps echoed as he approached. "We’ve got a new client coming in today. Big deal for us. Make sure everything's perfect."

I nodded, barely looking up from the clamps I was fastening. Carl was always chasing the next big thing; it was part of what made him successful but also exhausting to work for.

"Anything special about this client?" I asked, more out of obligation than curiosity.

"Influencer," he replied, checking his watch. "You know how it is."

"Got it," I said, moving to adjust the lights. In fact, I didn't know how it was, but he didn't need to know that. The familiar scent of developing chemicals lingered in the air, a comforting yet stifling reminder of where I was.

Carl hovered for a moment longer before heading back to his desk. The clatter of his keyboard filled the silence as I continued setting up. The monotony of these preparations usually brought me a strange kind of solace, but today it felt like trudging through mud.

I focused on aligning the lights just right, making sure they would flatter without casting harsh shadows. Each click and adjustment felt automatic, my body operating on muscle memory.

“Ally!” Carl’s sharp tone snapped me back to reality.

“Yeah?”

“Client will be here in ten. You good?”

“Yeah,” I lied, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “All set.”

I moved to the table where the props were laid out, a variety of items wrapped in tissue paper. As I peeled back the layers, my breath caught in my throat. Tiny baby clothes, soft blankets, and pastel-colored toys emerged from the packaging. Each item seemed to pulse with its own small, heartbreaking glow.

For a moment, I couldn’t move. The sight of those baby clothes sent a jolt through me, sharp and unexpected. Memories I had tried so hard to bury surfaced with relentless clarity.

I shook my head slightly, willing myself to focus. This was just another job. I was a professional. I could handle it.

My fingers trembled as I arranged the clothes neatly on a wooden crate we used for props. A pale blue onesie slipped through my grasp, falling to the floor in a heap. I bent down to pick it up, feeling an unwelcome tightness in my chest.

“Just get through it,” I muttered under my breath. The soft fabric felt like a weight in my hand as I draped it over the crate. Next were the blankets—plush and comforting—yet they only seemed to suffocate me as I spread them out.

I glanced at the toys next: pastel-colored blocks and stuffed animals with stitched-on smiles that felt mocking. The room seemed smaller suddenly, the walls closing in.

“Ally!” Carl called from across the room, his voice snapping me back once more.

“I’m almost done,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Good. Client’s here.” His words were clipped, businesslike.

I swallowed hard and finished arranging the last few items, forcing myself to breathe evenly. My heart pounded against my ribs as if trying to break free from its cage. The memories and pain were too close, too raw, but there was no room for them now.

The studio door swung open, and the client walked in with an entourage that included a makeup artist and an assistant carrying yet more props.

“Hi,” she said brightly, her eyes sweeping over the setup with approval.

“Yes,” I managed a smile that felt plastered on my face. “Welcome.”

As they busied themselves with their own preparations, I stepped back, allowing myself one deep breath before plunging into the shoot. Professionalism was my armor today; it had to be enough.

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