“I never wanted to hurt you.”
“But you did.”
“I know.”
“And you knew exactly when I was most vulnerable.”
His face tightened.
“That’s not fair.”
I stared at him.
“Not fair?”
He didn’t answer.
I stood up.
“Leave.”
He did.
For the first time in three years, I locked the door behind him.
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
Around 2 AM, I opened the shared photo album again.
I didn’t know why.
Maybe I was looking for pain.
Maybe I wanted to punish myself.
I scrolled through the pictures.
Then I noticed something I hadn’t seen before.
The album showed upload information.
Some of the photos had been uploaded automatically from Ethan’s phone.
But one photo had been uploaded from another device.
I opened it.
It was a picture of Ethan and the woman sitting across from each other at a restaurant.
The woman was facing away from the camera.
But I recognized the bracelet on her wrist.
My mother had given that bracelet to someone years ago.
I stared at the screen.
No.
That couldn’t be right.
I zoomed in.
The bracelet was unmistakable.
A thin silver chain with a tiny blue stone.
My mother had worn it for years.
After her diagnosis, she gave it to my sister.
At least, that’s what I remembered.
I called Rachel.
She answered half asleep.
“What’s wrong?”
“Where is Mom’s blue bracelet?”
Silence.
Then:
“What?”
“The silver one. The one with the blue stone.”
Rachel hesitated.
“I thought Mom gave it to you.”
“No.”
Another pause.
“Then I don’t know.”
I looked at the photo again.
The woman’s wrist.
The bracelet.
My stomach turned.
There was something else.