Tristan Vol. 4 Chapter 4

By: Asa Montreaux

The evening of the gallery opening shimmered with an air of anticipation, the Parisian twilight casting long shadows against the sleek glass facade of the venue. Inside, the gallery buzzed with the murmur of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the soft strains of a jazz quartet tucked into a corner. The walls were adorned with Tristan’s photographs—each frame a testament to his journeys through the sun-soaked streets of Spain and the serene lavender fields of Provence.

Tristan adjusted his cufflinks nervously, feeling the weight of the moment settle over him. Maisie, radiant in a simple black dress, slipped her hand into his. "You’re going to be brilliant," she whispered, her confidence in him a steady anchor.

Guests milled around, pausing before his work, their expressions ranging from contemplative to awed. Tristan drifted through the crowd, engaging in polite conversation, his mind only half-present until a man with a sharp suit and an even sharper gaze approached him.

“Tristan?” the man asked, extending a hand.

“Yes,” Tristan replied, shaking it firmly.

“I’m Daniel Rousseau, with Le Monde Diplomatique.” The name carried weight, and Tristan felt a jolt of surprise. “Your work’s impressive. But I’m not just here to admire art.”

Tristan raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“I’m putting together a project,” Rousseau continued. “A comprehensive look at the effects of global warming across Europe. We need someone who can capture more than just the surface—someone who can tell the story behind the image.”

Tristan’s breath caught. This was more than just an assignment; it was a chance to merge his art with a cause that mattered deeply to him.

“You’d travel extensively,” Rousseau added, “to rural areas where the impact is most visible. The articles would contribute to a larger book I’m publishing. And your photographs would be a central feature.”

The room seemed to blur around Tristan as he processed the offer. It was unexpected, overwhelming—but undeniably thrilling.

“I’d be honored,” Tristan managed, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind.

Rousseau nodded, his expression approving. “I’ll be in touch.”

As the man disappeared into the crowd, Tristan felt Maisie’s hand on his arm.

“What was that about?” she asked, her eyes shining with curiosity.

“An opportunity,” Tristan said, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and apprehension. “A big one.”

They exchanged a look, the kind that spoke of dreams and possibilities. Whatever it was they were heading for, Tristan knew this was a turning point.