The warehouse was colder than it looked.
Concrete and steel framed the shadows. Lina sat in the center, bound to a chair under a single hanging light. Her eyes were wide—but not with fear anymore. With fury.
Kairo stepped inside, slow, deliberate, heart pounding.
Vera stood behind her, calm as ice, holding the same old camera. The one that had stolen years, loves, and pieces of his soul.
"You made it," she said. "Did Selene follow?"
"She doesn't know I left," Kairo said. "She won't come."
"Shame," Vera said. "I always wanted to photograph a love triangle at its breaking point."
He glared at her. "Let her go, Vera. This is between you and me."
She smiled gently. "Everything has always been between you and me, Kairo. You just didn't know it."
He took a step forward. "Why Lina? Why not me?"
Vera tilted her head. "Because pain is a poor teacher. But choice? Now that—teaches you what you really believe."
She pulled something from a box beside her: two photos.
One of Lina, bound and bruised.
The other of Selene, asleep, unaware.
"I'll give you a gift," Vera said. "You can save one."
Kairo froze. "What?"
"Lina is here. Real. Flesh and blood. But Selene…" she held up the second photo. "She's in your apartment right now. Gas is leaking through the vents. Slow. Painless. But when you walk out of here, only one of them will be alive."
"You're bluffing," Kairo said, but his voice cracked.
Vera grinned. "You think I came here to watch you? No, darling. I came to teach you."
"Why?" he whispered. "Why destroy them? Why destroy me?"
"Because you forgot," she said, voice growing sharp. "You forgot who gave you that camera. Who taught you that a photo isn't just a picture—it's a moment trapped in amber. You used it to collect love. To trap hearts you didn't know how to keep. And now?"
She raised the camera, the lens gleaming like a loaded gun.
"You finally understand what it means to frame something forever."
Kairo's heart thundered.
Choose Lina—lose Selene.
Choose Selene—watch Lina break beyond repair.
Or… walk away, and let Vera choose for him.
"I won't do it," he said, trembling. "You don't get to decide who I lose."
Vera stepped forward, and for a moment—just one—her face softened.
"You already have," she whispered.
And then—
FLASH.
The shutter clicked.
Kairo blinked—and she was gone.
The chair was empty.
The photos were scattered across the ground.
But the choice?
Still waiting.