Samantha is a budding artist and photographer with a creative spirit that constantly pushes her to experiment and express herself. Though she’s still finding her way in the art world, Samantha has already taken a bold step by showcasing her work in a gallery. The event didn’t go exactly as planned, and though the specifics remain a mystery, her choice of work seems to have caused some rifts—both in her personal life and career. Whether it was the reception or the subject matter itself, Samantha doesn’t talk about it much, but the experience left a mark on her.
For now, she balances her artistic dreams with two-day jobs. One is at her mother’s café in the shopping mall, a steady but unfulfilling gig that allows her to interact with people but doesn’t feed her creative soul. The other is as a personal assistant to Dean Stuart at Rockbrough College, where she spends most of her time covering the reception desk. Neither job is ideal, but they pay the bills and give her flexibility as she figures out her next move.
Growing up, Samantha and her best friend Catherine were more like partners in crime than typical babysitters. When Samantha babysat Max alone, it was never about grand adventures or running around like in some wild game. That was Catherine’s style—loud, energetic, always leading the charge. Samantha was different. She was quieter, more introspective, and always looking for something creative to do.
When it was just her and Max, she would teach him how to use her camera, showing him how to capture the world as she saw it. The two of them would sit for hours, taking pictures of each other, Max attempting to focus the lens and find the perfect shot. She didn’t mind the silence between them. In those moments, they almost understood each other, even without words.
Sometimes, Samantha would bring out a selection of outfits, setting up a little impromptu photo shoot. She’d ask Max to help her choose the right one and then, with a quiet smile, allow him to watch as she slipped in and out of the various outfits. It wasn’t about the clothes themselves—it was about how she felt when she posed and how she wanted to be seen. Max would try to find the right angle, his face serious as he adjusted the lens. His concentration made her feel like she was the subject of something important, like the photos she was taking could mean more than just a moment frozen in time.
Max wasn’t always the best at posing. His focus would shift between the lens and her as though he wasn’t sure where his attention should be. But that only made it more endearing, watching him try to figure out the right shot. She didn’t mind the awkwardness. They both seemed to get lost in the process, the only sound the click of the shutter and their soft, unspoken exchanges.
The closeness wasn’t the same as the connection Catherine had with him. Max didn’t fall asleep on her like he did with Catherine, curling up against her in a way that made everything feel safe and secure. But there were times when Samantha longed for it—the way Max would settle against Catherine in a comforting, unspoken trust. It made her wonder why she never seemed to be the one Max turned to for that closeness.
Yet, there were moments when Samantha could almost feel that bond—but only when Catherine was part of it. Catherine, with her usual warmth and patience, would gently hand Max off to her, letting him settle into her arms. As Max’s tired body nestled into her chest, Samantha felt a quiet satisfaction, as if she’d finally captured a piece of what Catherine had. In those moments, it felt natural—like Catherine was inviting her to share that closeness, trusting her to provide the same warmth and security.—but deep down, she knew it wasn’t entirely the same. Catherine was the bridge that made it possible. Without her, Max never seemed as willing to settle.
When it was just the two of them, Samantha tried to recreate that closeness. She wrapped a blanket around both of them, pulling Max snugly against her chest, hoping the warmth and gentle pressure of her breasts would coax him to relax. She positioned him carefully, pressing his head between her breasts, trying to mimic the way he nestled into Catherine’s bosom when he drifted off. In her desperation, she’d go further than Catherine and hope the softness of her bare skin against his would deepen their connection. But it didn’t always work. Max had more energy with her—he never seemed as tired or ready to rest. He would shift and stir, his body present but never fully at ease. They’d sit through the movie, Max watching it halfheartedly while Samantha tried to convince herself that the closeness was enough. But it wasn’t. No matter how much she tried to replicate it, the bond she sought remained just out of reach, and it bothered her more than she was willing to admit.
But those carefree days seem to be behind her now. There’s an unspoken tension between Samantha and Catherine, a rift neither fully acknowledges. With Catherine back home, things have only become more awkward, though neither is ready to talk about what caused the distance between them.
Samantha is someone who wears her heart on her sleeve. Her emotions are easy to read, and she’s not afraid to let people know what she’s feeling, even when it’s uncomfortable. This openness can sometimes make her vulnerable, and she tends to wear her disappointments just as plainly as her joys. Though she might seem distant or guarded at first, beneath the surface, she’s fiercely loyal and cares deeply for the people in her life—especially those she considers family.