In the hushed ambiance of the conference hall, Esme and Silas waited anxiously for Denis Masson's arrival. The silence only served to heighten Esme's nerves. She tapped the pen nervously on the table as she stole glances at the entrance. Despite Silas's reassurances, a knot of apprehension coiled in her stomach, threatening to undermine her confidence.
She tried to muster a facade of composure, but the weight of impending responsibility bore down upon her, sapping her courage. Her mind raced with thoughts of the ill-fated photo shoot, the one that had been canceled due to circumstances beyond her control. The memory of it still stung, casting doubts about her capabilities and feeding her fears of failure.
What if she failed again? What if she couldn't deliver what Silas expected of her?
Silas looked at the pen in her hand and then shifted his focus to her. "Esme," he called softly, drawing her attention away from her swirling thoughts.