His breath changed. Almost imperceptibly.

"I don't know what story that is," she whispered.

She knocked on his studio door. It creaked open.

"Never," she breathed.

Reyansh stood up. He walked to a camera on a tripod—an old Rolleiflex, film still inside. "Let me show you."

Tonight, she was supposed to interview Reyansh Khanna. The photographer was infamous for two things: his haunting portraits of intimacy, and his silence. No one had captured the raw, unspoken language between two bodies like he did.