For a moment, I considered closing everything.
Then I clicked the folder.
Owen thought he had returned Daniel’s photographs.
He had no idea he had returned a secret Daniel had taken to his grave.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
I opened the first photograph.
Daniel was making a face at the camera, his eyes crossed and his cheeks puffed out.
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
The next pictures came slowly.
Me standing in the kitchen with flour on my shirt.
A laugh escaped me.
The house across the street after a snowfall.
A crooked photograph of our Christmas tree. A pigeon on a trash can that Daniel had apparently considered worthy of preserving forever.
By the tenth picture, I was crying and smiling at the same time.
I kept scrolling.
Then a woman appeared.
I frowned.
She was standing beside Daniel outside a coffee shop, smiling into the camera.
