The deeper we go, the more the walls and ceiling squeeze in around us, the darkness stretching endlessly ahead. The cold bites harder, and the maze of tunnels twists into unknown paths. The musty scent of ancient earth fills my nostrils, along with the mineral tang of dampness that seems to coat my tongue. Water drips somewhere in the distance, each drop echoing like a tiny metronome counting seconds in the darkness.

  “This is the first chamber.” The older man finally stops, sitting on the ground after nearly fifteen minutes of walking and explaining tunnel formations.

  It’s the first open space where we don’t have to walk a single file, but I wouldn’t call it big — it’s about the size of a walk-in closet.

  “We’ll need to take off our backpacks to get through there and see the cave’s starry sky,” the old man says, pointing to a dark hole.

  The kind of hole that looks like something straight out of a horror movie — any second now, a hand could reach out and drag us all to our doom.

  I prefer to think of it as Alice’s rabbit hole. Maybe we’ll tumble into Wonderland instead. The end’s supposed to be beautiful, right?

  We didn’t come all this way just to freeze and listen to this man talk, talk, talk. Yet somehow, I still don’t understand a word, even though it’s my language.

  “Take good pictures,” Ella hands me her camera. “You know how.” Then she adjusts Zoe’s coat while her daughter beams up at her. “Watch over Zoe.”

  “I will.” I nod.

  “Ready?” the older man asks.

  “Should my niece go before or after me?” I ask.

  “Doesn’t matter, as long as she’s not on either end. I’ll go first, and my wife will go last.” He gestures to the woman beside him and Sam.

  “Zoe will go between JJ and Sam,” Ella decides.

  “You can come right after me,” the blonde researcher purrs, batting her lashes as she glances back at me.

  “Sure,” I reply, squeezing Zoe’s hand. She’s my responsibility now.

  The blonde grabs my arm, her fingers brushing against my skin as she guides me toward the entrance. I catch a look from Ella — a sharp eye roll followed by a smirk as if we’re part of some unspoken joke.

  I didn’t do anything.

  The older man vanishes into the dark, his steps and a faint light being the only traces left behind.

  Positioned behind her, she bends to enter, her body tilting just enough to expose the curve of her waist. Her hips shift subtly, a silent invitation. Lingered in the moment, she glances back with a playful smile, eyes locking with mine, daring me to follow.

  “Stay close behind me,” she says before slipping inside.

  No reaction, expression empty. Just another flirtation — nothing new.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ella raise an eyebrow at me with a knowing smirk. Wally chuckles silently. Zoe watches innocently as the woman disappears inside.

  But Sam and the older woman? They’re the weirdest ones.

  They’re both staring off in the opposite direction, faces frozen, cheeks tinged pink, rambling about rock striations.

  The lady is clearly embarrassed for the girl, but Sam? Seriously, did he actually turn red because of that?

  “You can come in,” the blond calls from inside.

  Quickly, I crawl through the narrow passage, careful not to get scratched by the jagged rocks pressing against me.

  “Uncle, you’re so slow! Look how far ahead their lights are,” Zoe complains behind me. “I could go way faster than you.”

  “Well, yeah. You’re smaller, after all.”

  “There had to be some advantage to being small,” Sam mutters from the back.

  “Finally,” Zoe sighs in relief.

  “Want me to wait for you, JJ?” the woman asks in a voice way too sweet for someone I just met.

  It’s nothing. Stay calm, just ignore it, and pretend you don’t understand the flirting.

  Either she’ll give up soon, or she’ll keep it up until I leave. Most don’t actually chase me for long.

  “No need, I’m right behind you,” I reply.

  When I’m single, most just want a brief fling — just to feel good about being with… someone like me.

  The ones who want something serious usually spiral into paranoia, convinced I’ll cheat, or suffocate under the weight of my fans’ obsession.

  Relationships only seem to work with those who already live in this world — people who understand the game. Like Jess.

  But let’s be honest. This situation is not just when I’m single. Plenty don’t care about that or about me. To some, I’m just a prize.

  When I am single, I don’t… mind. But when I’m in a relationship, I have to fight this creeping sense of disgust — not because I do anything wrong, but because… I like being wanted, and sometimes it feels creepy. Even when I know I’m just an object to most. Even when that thought makes me sick.

  Best not to think too much about it. Just keep playing the role.

  “Almost there,” the woman says, now the only thing visible in front of me is her foot and her ass lifted in the air.

  Amazing how someone can still manage to look relatively sexy in such a cramped space.

  A light flickers ahead from the opposite direction.

  “I’m through,” the older man calls out.

  Moments later, the woman moves forward, revealing the tunnel’s exit opening into a larger chamber.

  Crawling out, I wait for Zoe, who follows with ease — small enough to sit up and exit gracefully.

  Sam, meanwhile, props his hand on the ground, trying to push himself through. Then he grunts, reaching toward the entrance as he tries to push himself free. Oh. He’s stuck.

  Like this. Halfway out. Like a damn cartoon character.

  I bite my lip to keep from laughing.

  “It’s caught on the pocket of your jumpsuit. I’ll try to untangle it from the rock, okay?” the older woman says.

  “Yes,” Sam replies, sounding tense as I step closer.

  “I can’t reach it,” she adds.

  He grits his teeth and tries again, muscles tensing, but the rock (and his jumpsuit) refuses to cooperate. His eyes dart toward me. Then he exhales sharply, pressing his lips together. There’s no way out of this.

  Resigned, he slumps slightly before tilting his head, offering me the smallest smirk, like he already knows how ridiculous this is.

  Then, with all the enthusiasm of a man handing over his last meal, he extends his arms toward me.

  I step in front of him, grabbing his wrists. He lifts his eyes just slightly, barely meeting mine. Lips move, but no sound comes out — just a silent stream of curses that can be felt rather than heard. Damn.

  His whole body shifts, struggling to hold back laughter, and any attempt to suppress mine completely fails.

  “Oh god… harder,” he laughs breathlessly. “For fuck’s sake, are your muscles just for decoration?”

  Tension locks every muscle, forcing a brief pause. One foot braces against the wall, and with a sharp pull, full force drives through.

  A loud rip echoes through the tunnel. Momentum sends me stumbling backward, and Sam — finally freed — lands right on top of me.

  The impact barely registers before a hand slams against my chest. Without hesitation, he pushes off, using me like a damn springboard. Then, with practiced indifference, he dusts off his jumpsuit, straightens up, and moves on like nothing happened.

  Laughter bubbles up again at the sheer absurdity. He’s insane.

  By the time the balance returns and the tunnel stops spinning, the older woman is already climbing out. Her gaze flicks to Sam — who now stands stiffly with his back turned, silently pulling Zoe closer to his side.

  “…Thanks,” he mutters without turning around, clinging to whatever remains of his dignity as if desperately holding onto the last scraps of his pride.

  “No problem.” Honestly, that was more gratitude than I expected.

  But I can’t help the smirk that tugs at my lips when I notice the damage. His jumpsuit is torn — badly. The right pocket is shredded, and the entire section covering the right side of his ass is just… gone.

  At least his pants are still intact.

  I lift the fabric, and he tries to jump to the side, but I grab his waist.

  “It’s ripped,” I inform him.

  His hand slaps over mine — right on his butt — while his other hand yanks my wrist away.

  “Fixed,” he declares, pressing himself against the cave wall and pulling a roll of duct tape from his pocket.

  Now begins the acrobatics as he struggles to patch it up himself.

  “Let me do it,” I offer, reaching out.

  “No, I got it,” he grunts stubbornly, his face now the shade of a ripe tomato. “Done.”

  “It’s crooked,” I say.

  “Doesn’t matter — at least my ass isn’t out.”

  “You can fix it when we get back,” the blond chimes in. “I get it, though. Having a big butt is a struggle — sometimes things fit everywhere except there. Plenty of women would be jealous.”

  Sam only nods, keeping his expression as neutral as possible, resisting the urge to roll his eyes or sigh.

  “It could get tangled when we come back. It’s better to do it properly now and also prevent it from getting caught in another pocket,” the old man says as he lays out his tools near a wall.

  “If it’s gonna be an issue later… Ma’am, could you help me with this?” he asks, suddenly humble.

  “I’ll do it,” I cut in

  Seriously? He’d rather have a random older woman help him than me?

  We may not be friends, he might not like me much, but at least we know each other.

  “Oh, I don’t mind at all,” the woman says, stepping in front of me as Sam refuses to hand me the tape.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  Why her? If it were the younger researcher, I’d get it — I’d think he was a pervert, but I’d get it.

  But a married woman?

  …Oh.

  He’s got something against single people, doesn’t he?

  Should’ve known.

  “This really does look like a starry sky,” Sam suddenly says, pointing at the ceiling — clearly trying to distract Zoe from watching the woman tape up his jumpsuit.

  “It does look like moving stars when you shine a light on them,” Zoe agrees, tilting her head to adjust the beam.

  “That effect happens because the light reflects off calcite and silica deposits on the cave ceiling,” the older man explains to her. “Hydrothermal activity influenced the crystallization of these minerals, creating surfaces that scatter light irregularly. Plus, the suspended moisture enhances the glow, making it look like the stars are shimmering.”

  “All set,” the woman says with satisfaction as she steps back. “Now it won’t get caught on anything again.”

  “Thanks,” Sam mutters before striding off to join Zoe, head tilting up to admire the ceiling — leaving me with a perfect view of the tape job.

  His entire ass is practically mummified in overlapping strips of duct tape, stretching up to his waist and even covering part of his belt.

  Sam, lost in admiration of the cave, remains blissfully unaware of the giant silver ‘X’ plastered across his backside.

  Holding a straight face becomes a losing battle, unlike the woman beside me and the older man, who both chuckle without restraint.

  “This is much better,” the woman says in her defense.

  “Absolutely, dear,” the husband agrees, slipping an arm around her shoulder as they admire the ceiling. “We’ve seen it a thousand times, but it still amazes me.”

  “Our very own starry sky,” the wife murmurs, brushing her fingers over her husband’s hand on her shoulder.

  I want to grow old like that.

  The thought barely settles before fingers brush against mine, lingering a second too long before tracing my wrist. The younger woman. The intent is clear.

  A tight, polite smile forms as I shift closer to Zoe — subtle, but firm in my disinterest.

  My hand finds my niece’s, guiding her to my other side. She still has a perfect view, but now there’s more space between me and the woman.

  Before Zoe can fully switch sides, Sam catches her hand, stopping her. His sharp gaze flicks to me, immediately clocking what I’m doing — just as the woman’s fingers slide along my arm, squeezing my bicep before I can step further away.

  Avoiding any conflict or public scandal with her possibly posting something online, my hand reaches for Zoe, ready to pull her back. But before contact is made, Sam releases her — dodging my touch like it’s something contagious, as always.

  “How about you take some photos?” Sam suggests. “Ella will kill you if you come back without a good shot for Instagram. I’ll take a few, but I’m not exactly the best at it.”

  “For someone who travels so much, you should be better,” I remark, reaching for the camera in the bag I dragged along — using the motion to subtly put more distance between me and the woman.

  “I don’t really think about making the picture look nice,” Sam replies. “I just use it as a marker — a way to bring back the memory later. A pretty photo without a good memory behind it doesn’t mean much to me.”

  I aim the camera at the cave ceiling.

  “That’s true.” The old woman nods. “Young people take pictures of everything these days. When I was younger, photos weren’t as expensive as they were before my time, but they still weren’t disposable like they are now. We only took them on special occasions.”

  “I like that we have the convenience now, but I don’t think it should be a priority.” Sam tilts his head slightly, thoughtful.

  “Was it really hard to take photos back then?” Zoe asks, intrigued.

  “It was different,” the old woman explains. “By that time you had a limited number of shots. A roll of film could hold at most thirty-six pictures… and you couldn’t even see how they turned out until they were developed.”

  “Only thirty-six?” Zoe’s eyes go wide.

  “And you had to take the film somewhere to get it processed for hours before you could even see the pictures,” Sam adds, making her look even more shocked.

  “I can’t imagine living like that,” she murmurs, mind blown.

  “I actually like it,” I say, adjusting the camera. “Every now and then, I dig one out from the back of a drawer and go through a few rolls. Shooting on film forces you to slow down, think about composition, exposure… It’s a different process.”

  “The first time I used a camera was on a trip, and almost all my photos turned out blurry. If there hadn’t been a photographer with us, we wouldn’t have had any pictures at all,” Sam says, a faint smile crossing his face as he gets lost in thought.

  With the surroundings framed, I shift the lens toward Zoe, who instinctively strikes a pose.

  “What kind of person brings a photographer on a trip?” the old woman chuckles.

  “It was a friend of my dad’s,” Sam says smoothly, adjusting the story to keep up the illusion of normalcy.

  I can’t help glancing at him.

  He notices. He knows I caught the lie.

  And he just shrugs.

  “Even on digital cameras, it used to be difficult because memory was so limited,” the older man adds. “I had to carry multiple memory cards just to take photos of excavation sites.”

  “Yeah, but I loved them as soon as they hit the market.” Sam pulls out his phone to snap a few pictures. “They helped a lot. I could take something apart knowing I had a photo to help put it back together. And I didn’t have to wait to get them developed.”

  I lie down on the ground to get a better angle.

  “That made things much easier,” the man agrees.

  “I like taking nice pictures. I have great ones on Instagram. Want to see?” The younger woman scoots closer, sitting beside me.

  “Interesting. Sam, stay close to Zoe.” He steps to the side, adopting a serious, almost military stance — looking like he’s posing for a résumé photo. “Lower, Sam, so you fit in the right lighting. Just kneel already.”

  Zoe helps adjust his pose, then throws her arms around him, telling him to smile. And finally, for once, he actually listens — giving a genuine smile to the camera.

  “If you’d like, we could take one together,” the younger woman says, placing a hand on my thigh — a subtle but unmistakable suggestion.

  Stay calm. It’s nothing.

  “Good idea. I’ll set a timer.” I position the camera and move fast to enjoy the other.

  But she is fast too and presses her whole body against mine. Immediate reaction — step sideways, pulling Zoe in front of me and squeezing between her and Sam. An arm drapes over his shoulder, using him as a solid, unwilling barrier.

  Flash.

  The picture comes into view — everyone has glowing red vampire eyes, except Sam, who’s looking down, and the old man, who blinked.

  “Again.”

  Adjusting the brightness, fixing the flash, and setting a long burst mode, that should do the trick.

  Before the timer goes off, Sam suddenly lifts Zoe into his arms and gestures for me to crouch where she was — effectively rescuing me from the woman, who definitely wouldn’t want to be caught in the shot crouching.

  Damn. He actually helped me.

  Flash.

  This time, the lighting is perfect, and no one’s eyes are shut in every frame.

  Sam is facing forward, grinning from ear to ear — flashing a bunny sign behind my head. Zoe catches on and does the same. But after a few shots, they both settle into a normal pose, their mischievous grins turning more genuine.

  “That’s enough, right? Plenty for Ella, yeah?” Sam grumbles, setting Zoe down.

  “Perfect.” I glare at them, holding back a smile. But in the end, a smirk slips through.

  Apparently, I should be suspicious of Sam’s good gestures.

  “We’ll wrap up our work quickly,” the older man says as he sets up the drill. “You can enjoy the view in the meantime.”

  “Thanks for bringing us here,” Sam says, lying down on the ground with his hands behind his head, legs crossed, staring up at the ceiling.

  And, of course, Zoe copies him — only to immediately shiver and lean against him. “The floor’s really cold.”

  I lie down beside her, opening my jacket so she can use it as a blanket. As she settles in, I sense movement behind me.

  “Morgan, come help us out,” the man calls, subtly reprimanding her — keeping her from planting herself next to me.

  Even he noticed I was avoiding her. She must’ve realized it too, but she’s still pushing. Seriously, she has to know I’m in a relationship.

  The drill whirs to life.

  A deep breath fills the air. Sam sighs, closing his eyes in complete peace. He always looks different when he’s like this — like an angel. Not the walking disaster who glares at me like he wants me dead whenever he’s awake and alert.

  Like this, from this angle, he looks like someone else entirely.

  “Look, Uncle! When I shine the flashlight this way, that star turns gold.”

  Minutes pass on the cold ground, but slowly, I feel recharged after the exhausting day.

  “Where are we going tomorrow?” I ask.

  “To where the bushrangers used to hide. It’s a maze-like, isolated place with rough terrain. Thieves, murderers, and rebels fighting against the system used to take refuge there.

  A real, old-school adventure. GPS doesn’t work well in the area, so we’ll have to rely on maps and a compass in each vehicle, which you can help track.

  No phone signal, except for satellites, but even that is hard to get without a clear line of sight — and practically impossible if there’s any atmospheric interference.

  Navigating rough paths… Interesting?

  After all, without a bit of challenge, where’s the fun, right?” He turns to Zoe with a devilish grin at the thought.

  He wants to kill us.

  But Zoe nods, laughing, already excited by the idea.

  “I’m not even sure I know how to read a map without actual roads — especially in a moving car.”

  We’ll be relying entirely on this lunatic to guide us.

  If I didn’t know him better, I’d be calculating the high probability of him leading us to our deaths and hiding our bodies in that maze-like place where we’d get lost without a trace.

  “I’ll explain on the way. And don’t worry, Johan knows we’re meeting him in Sydney before Monday.”

  “My parents and Ella’s too. If we get lost, they’ll come looking for us,” I add.

  “Perfect. Even safer.” Sam nods.

  “Mom talks to Grandma and Grandpa every night before bed!” Zoe chimes in.

  “So they’ll notice we’re missing within hours, not days. Much better.” Sam grins — genuinely pleased at the idea of us getting lost, as long as there’s a quick rescue.

  Oh, fantastic. That makes me feel so much safer following him.

  “You do actually know how to read a map, right?”

  “Yes, but it’s always good to have a backup.”

  “How good are you?”

  “I’ve been honing my navigation skills since I was a kid, so don’t worry about that. My friend learned when his dad taught him how to hunt, and he taught me. After that, I studied it on my own.”

  “You hunt?” Zoe asks, jumping into the conversation.

  “Not with guns, since they never let me go hunting with them, but my friend taught me navigation and how to set good traps. And I’ve used navigation ever since — especially in competitions.”

  “Well, now I feel way more at ease,” I say, glancing at him sideways. “You’ve been navigating since you were out of diapers, and in the rare case we do get lost, at least we won’t starve — you can hunt.”

  He chuckles, shrugging. “Yeah… pretty much.”

  ***

  The couple finishes their work, and we head back outside the cave without any trouble. They say their goodbyes warmly but hurry to get back to the city before nightfall — dragging the woman along, who had eagerly offered to camp with us after hearing why we weren’t in a rush to leave.

  “Wait a second — did that woman hit on Sam too? Is that why he put an ‘X’ on his butt, so no one would look, or something like that?” Ella asks, intrigued, watching Sam walk off toward the pool area.

  “It’s ripped,” I laugh at the absurdity. “He’s so reserved that even I’d think that before assuming it’s just a tear — even though that’s way more likely.”

  Ella punches my arm. “You never know.”

  We walk past the bushes, spotting Wally near the pool with Zoe and Sam.

  “Do you think the water’s really warm, Dad?” Zoe asks.

  Wally quickly pulls off his shoes, and then his socks.

  Seeing this, Sam silently signals for Zoe to push him. As Wally tests the water with a toe, she gives in to the little devil on her shoulder and follows through.

  “What a bad influence,” I scold.

  “It’s just harmless, innocent fun.” He shrugs.

  “How’s the water, honey?” Ella chuckles.

  “It’s nice,” he says, moving closer to the edge near his daughter, who laughs at him. “You little rascal.” He splashes water at her, and she tries to dodge it like Sam.

  His distraction gives me an opening, and I quickly move behind him. I push — except as soon as he loses balance, he grabs my shirt, pulling me in with him.

  Soaked, he glares at me.

  “It’s just harmless, innocent fun,” I raise an eyebrow, daring him to disagree with my revenge for my friend.

  He splashes water at me, looking away, pretending to sulk — but I catch the smile on his face, even though he’s trying to hide it.

  “Now, we’re the only ones left.” Ella picks up Zoe and jumps in too.

  “The water feels great,” Wally murmurs, wading through the pool to get closer to them.

  “Zoe, go grab the camera real quick so we can take a picture together,” Ella lifts Zoe out of the pool.

  “Ella, send me the picture later — the one where they’re making bunny ears behind me and then laughing.”

  “Why would you want that?” Sam rolls his eyes, trying to mask his shyness with irritation. But I can now tell the difference between this and his actual annoyance.

  “It’s funny.” I shrug, brushing it off.

  “Right…” I see his shoulders tense slightly. “I don’t think you’d want to post it, but I’d rather you not post pictures of me.”

  “Why not? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” I tease, even though I know it could be true. Not that I care.

  “It’s not just that. You’re internationally known. It’s riskier for a photo with my approximate location to reach people I don’t want knowing where I am.”

  “Are you wanted by Interpol or the CIA?” I raise an eyebrow.

  “No,” he sighs. “I wouldn’t even let Ella post pictures of me if that were the case. I just prefer not to be in your posts because they could go viral and reach more people.”

  “It’s to avoid situations like Daniel?” Ella asks, concerned.

  “That too. But I bet he already knows where I am — he’s probably following you on Instagram.” He turns to Ella. “But it’s not just him.”

  “They want you to work for them?” Ella moves closer.

  “Not because of my job…” He hesitates, but Ella patiently waits, nodding in support. “My ex-governess, who thinks she’s a matchmaker. My friend’s father, who wants me to help… manage his business. And other people — basically, anyone interested in the money and reputation my father built.”

  “And how do these people not find you?”

  “I’m careful when I talk to my friend, I keep a low profile at… important events, and I haven’t used any social media linked to my name in years,” he finishes with a resigned sigh. “Just don’t post it, okay?” Sam’s eyes, suddenly vulnerable, freeze me in place.

  “Yeah… yeah, of course.”

  “Say ‘Cheese’!” Zoe points the camera at us.

  Still caught up in the tangle of thoughts unraveling in my mind, I catch Sam’s timid smile just before he settles into a pose.

  Moments like this — where I glimpse something real between the frames — remind me how much of him still remains out of focus. The big picture is unraveling, one snapshot at a time.