Capítulo 4: You do have an Instagram account

The café was a quaint little place, nestled between the towering buildings of downtown Los Angeles. As we entered, the rich aroma of coffee beans enveloped us, a stark contrast to the crisp autumn air outside. The photographer led the way to a cozy corner booth, his strides confident, yet relaxed.

We settled in, the leather seats creaking under our weight. The waitress came by, a friendly smile on her face as she took our orders. I opted for a cappuccino, while he went for a black coffee, no sugar. As she walked away, The photographer turned to me, his hazel eyes alight with excitement.

"I'm going to post one of those photos on Instagram," he said, pulling out his phone. "With the right exposure, you could really make a name for yourself. You do have an Instagram account, right?"

I nodded, feeling a flutter of nerves in my stomach. I retrieved my phone from my jacket pocket and opened the app, revealing my profile. "Elena Vargas," it read, stark in its simplicity. No bio, no posts, just two followers—my mother and sister.

The photographer peered at the screen, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "You look young and beautiful, but what is this?" he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.

I felt a blush creep up my cheeks. "I never really got into it," I mumbled, suddenly self-conscious.

"Don't worry, I'll definitely help you," he assured me, his voice warm and encouraging. "And by the way, my name is Tyron."

We spent the next hour discussing strategies and ideas. He was a fountain of knowledge, explaining the ins and outs of social media branding with a passion I hadn't expected. He talked about hashtags, engagement, and content creation as if they were the most fascinating subjects in the world.

As we sipped our coffees, now lukewarm, he took my phone and began to type. "First, we need a bio. Something catchy, something that captures your essence," he said, his fingers flying over the keyboard.

"Elena Vargas—LA's fresh face. Dreamer. Doer. Aspiring model." he read aloud, a satisfied grin on his face.

I couldn't help but smile. It sounded… right. Like a piece of me I hadn't known was missing until now.

"And now, let's take a selfie," The photographer suggested. "Your first official post."

We leaned in, the camera capturing our grinning faces, the background a blur of coffee cups and pastries. He posted the photo with a flurry of hashtags, then handed my phone back to me.

"Watch the followers roll in, by tomorow" he said, a twinkle in his eye.

As I made my way back home, the excitement from the day still coursing through my veins, I couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation for what lay ahead. The evening air was cool, and the streets of Los Angeles were beginning to quiet down as people retreated to their homes.

My phone buzzed periodically with new notifications, each one a small reminder that I was on the cusp of something big.

When I reached the front door of my house, I took a deep breath, bracing myself for whatever awaited me inside. The moment I stepped through the door, I was met with the unmistakable tension that always seemed to hang in the air. My mother was standing in the living room, arms crossed and an angry scowl on her face.

"Where have you been?" she snapped, her voice sharp and accusatory. "You left without a word and didn't even bother to check in."

"I went for a walk," I replied calmly, hoping to diffuse the situation. "I needed some fresh air."

"Fresh air," she scoffed. "You mean you were out wasting time while your sister and I had to fend for ourselves. And you still haven't made dinner!"

I glanced over at Clara, who was lounging on the couch with a smug look on her face, clearly enjoying the spectacle. My frustration simmered just beneath the surface, but I kept my composure.

"I'll make dinner now," I said evenly, not wanting to escalate the argument further.

Without another word, I headed to the kitchen. I pulled out some ingredients from the fridge, deciding on a simple pasta dish. As I chopped vegetables and boiled water, I allowed my mind to wander back to the park, to Tyron and the unexpected photo shoot. The memory brought a small smile to my face, a glimmer of hope amidst the current tension.

As the pasta cooked, I set the table and tried to ignore the palpable resentment emanating from the living room. When everything was ready, I called out, "Dinner's ready," and took my seat at the table.

My mother and Clara joined me, and we ate in relative silence. The food was good, but the atmosphere was strained. I could feel Clara's eyes on me, her disdain evident in every glance. My mother picked at her food, occasionally muttering under her breath about my lack of responsibility.

After dinner, I cleaned up the kitchen, the monotony of the task providing a welcome distraction. Once everything was in order, I retreated to my room, closing the door behind me with a sigh of relief. The quiet of my room was a stark contrast to the chaos outside, and I felt a sense of peace wash over me.

I took a moment to look around my room, feeling a wave of nostalgia. The posters of supermodels on the walls, the neatly made bed, the little desk where I used to do my homework—all of it reminded me of simpler times. Times before everything had gotten so complicated.

I changed into my pajamas and slipped under the covers, my mind still buzzing with thoughts of the day. I picked up my phone, scrolling through the growing list of notifications and messages. The selfie Tyron had posted was gaining traction, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. This was the beginning of something new, something promising.

As I set my phone down on the nightstand, I allowed myself to relax, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. "Tomorrow is a new day," I whispered to myself, a small smile playing on my lips. "A new beginning."

With that thought in mind, I let the events of the day wash over me one last time before sleep claimed me. I was determined to make the most of this second chance, to rewrite my story and create a future that I could be proud of. And with the promise of tomorrow, I felt ready to face whatever challenges came my way.

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