He said he didn't touch them because he didn't love them. And he didn't touch me because he treasured me. He wanted us to save our first time for our wedding night.
In the photo the server took, I had just accepted his confession.
My face had been burning red, too shy to look at him, staring at my food instead. And Samuel had rested his chin on his hand, gazing at me with warmth and affection overflowing from his eyes.
But later, it was that same man who shattered my belief in love.
That same man who ended my life with his own hands.
I stared at the photo on the wall. The colors had faded a little over time, but the memory it captured hadn't. My voice came out low, almost more to myself than to him.
"And what about Rhian?" I asked quietly. "She was your first love. If you had walked into her room that night by mistake... would all these words you just said be meant for her instead?"
My eyes stayed on the photo, but I could feel the weight of his silence behind me.
"After all, she and I were the only ones living on the second floor. Identical doors. Right across from each other."
I finally turned to look at him.