As I stood, my phone slipped from my hand and fell to the floor.
When I bent down to pick it up, I noticed something hidden beneath the sink cabinet—wrapped layer after layer in expensive silk, as if it were a treasured artifact.
I unwrapped it—and found a thick photo album.
It contained every photo of Khalil from the age of 15 to 28.
I recognized the cover—it was the same one I’d once seen in Adriana’s office.
Adriana had always loved photography.
Though technically Melissa’s aunt, she was only a few years older than us. When we were kids, she always carried herself with a cold, aloof demeanor—watching Melissa and me play from the sidelines, as if our games were too childish to bother with.
Then, when we were fifteen, Khalil approached me, asking if we could be friends. I saw he was always alone, so I introduced him to both Melissa and Adriana.
Looking back, it must have started then.
From that moment on, Adriana began joining our outings. She also started learning photography.
I thought it was just part of growing up—her coming out of her shell.
But now I understand—she had met someone she liked.
Most of the photos in the album were ones I had never seen. They captured Khalil in moments even I hadn’t noticed: every smile, every frown, every glance, even a casual stretch—she had preserved them all through her lens.
Ever since we got married, Adriana never touched a camera again.
Once, I asked if she could take a photo of me, but she brushed it off, saying her camera had been lost. Then she recommended a famous photographer instead.
Turns out it wasn’t lost at all—she just didn’t want to use that lens unless it was for someone she truly loved.
My eyes were too dry to cry anymore. I quietly placed the photo album back where I found it.
On my phone, I booked a plane ticket and drafted a divorce agreement.
If she loved Khalil so much, then I’d set her free.
—
The next morning, my eyes were swollen like walnuts.
Adriana looked genuinely distressed. She personally made me a nutritious breakfast and even boiled eggs to reduce the swelling around my eyes. She peeled them with care and pressed them gently to my eyelids.
Her tenderness and concern made me doubt everything—was last night just a bad dream?
Seeing that I hadn’t touched a single bite, she sighed.