A Second Chance at Us

Chapter Five

A Second Chance at Us

Chapter Five — The Photograph

I found the photograph on Sunday afternoon.

I wasn't looking for it.

I was searching through the hallway cupboard for an old blanket when a cardboard box slipped from the top shelf and landed on the floor.

“Great.”

I crouched down and began gathering everything that had fallen out.

Old Christmas decorations.

A broken picture frame.

A stack of birthday cards.

Then I saw the photograph.

I picked it up.

My breath caught.

It was William and me.

We were standing in front of the house when I was about twelve. I was wearing a ridiculous pink dress, and William had one arm around my shoulders.

I stared at it for a moment.

We looked happy.

Before everything became complicated.

Before he left.

Before Ava.

Before all the things neither of us knew how to talk about now.

“You found that?”

I nearly dropped it.

I turned around.

William was standing at the end of the hallway.

“Don't sneak up on people.”

“I wasn't sneaking.”

“You were.”

He smiled.

Then his eyes moved to the photograph in my hand.

“I remember that day.”

“You do?”

“Of course.”

He walked closer.

“You'd just won that school competition.”

I looked at the photograph again.

“I forgot about that.”

“You cried because Mum wouldn't let you wear your crown to dinner.”

I laughed.

“She was being unreasonable.”

“You looked ridiculous.”

I elbowed him lightly.

“You're mean.”

“You loved me anyway.”

The words came out casually.

But something about them made the air change.

William seemed to notice it too.

His smile faded.

I looked back at the photograph.

“I did.”

Silence.

He took the photograph from my hand.

His thumb brushed the edge.

“You were so little.”

“I know.”

“I missed all of this.”

“You didn't miss everything.”

He looked at me.

“I missed more than I should have.”

I didn't know what to say.

So I pointed toward the box.

“There are probably more.”

We sat on the floor and went through them together.

There were pictures of birthdays, school plays, family holidays and Christmas mornings.

Every few minutes, William would tell me a story I'd forgotten.

Sometimes I'd laugh.

Sometimes he'd laugh.

And sometimes we'd just sit quietly.

Then I found a photograph of Ava.

She was standing beside William, smiling at the camera.

I handed it to him.

His expression changed immediately.

“She was beautiful,” I whispered.

“She was.”

He stared at the photograph.

“I still expect her to call me.”

My throat tightened.

“What would she say?”

He smiled sadly.

“Probably that I'm being dramatic.”

I laughed softly.

“That sounds like her.”

“She would've liked seeing you again.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

He looked at me.

“She always thought you were special.”

I smiled.

“I liked her.”

“I know.”

William looked down at the photograph.

“I don't want to forget her.”

“You won't.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because loving someone doesn't disappear just because they're gone.”

He looked at me for a long moment.

Then he nodded.

“Thank you.”

I reached over and squeezed his hand.

It was meant to be comforting.

Nothing more.

But William looked down at our hands.

Then he looked at me.

Neither of us spoke.

I slowly pulled my hand away.

“I should put these back.”

“Yeah.”

We gathered the photographs.

William stood first and offered me his hand.

I took it.

He pulled me to my feet.

For a second, we stood too close.

I could hear my own heartbeat.

William seemed to notice.

His expression softened.

Then he stepped back.

“Dinner's probably ready.”

“Probably.”

He walked away.

I stayed behind.

I looked at the photograph one last time.

The younger William was smiling at the camera.

The younger me was smiling too.

Back then, everything had been simple.

There had been no questions.

No hesitation.

No strange feeling whenever our eyes met.

I put the photograph back in the box.

But I couldn't put the memories away.

And for the first time, I wondered whether coming home had been a mistake.

Not because I didn't love my family.

But because I was beginning to realize that some things had changed while I was gone.

And I wasn't sure I was ready to face what those changes meant.