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.
“After that day, you started hiding yourself. You stopped taking pictures, going to the beach, even looking at yourself in the mirror.”
“And that’s why you’ve been photographing me at night?”
“No. That wasn’t the only reason.”
He took a deep breath.
