In the first photograph, I was twenty-two years old, on our wedding day.
In the second, I was pregnant.
In the third, I was in the hospital, holding our baby boy.
Then he showed me a photograph I’d almost completely forgotten.
I was standing in the same backyard where he’d recently taken another picture of me.
I was wearing a pink swimsuit.
“Do you remember this day, Emily?”
I remembered.
It was thirteen years ago.
That day, several relatives had laughed at my body. I’d been so humiliated that I’d decided never to wear a swimsuit again.
Daniel took my hand.
His voice trembled.
“But I had no right to do it secretly. I’m sorry.”
For the first time, I could see that Daniel truly understood how much he’d frightened me.
“Then what were you whispering every night?”
He closed his eyes.
“I was saying, ‘Please, don’t let it be too late this time.’”
