London had a way of draining her in the best and worst ways. By the time Sienna stepped out of the studio that evening, her shoulders ached, her fingers were stiff from hours of shooting, and her brain buzzed with lighting adjustments, model notes, and the creative director’s endless revisions. The Maison Laurent campaign was exhilarating, but it demanded everything — precision, instinct, stamina, artistry.
She loved it. She also wanted to collapse face‑first into a pillow.
The sky was already dark, the city lights reflecting off wet pavement from a brief rain shower. She pulled her coat tighter around her and walked toward the apartment, her camera bag weighing heavily against her hip. The cold air bit at her cheeks, but she welcomed it. It kept her awake. It kept her grounded.
She rea
