Then, when we were fifteen, Khalil approached me, asking if we could be friends. I saw he was always alone, so I introduced him to both Melissa and Adriana.
Looking back, it must have started then.
From that moment on, Adriana began joining our outings. She also started learning photography.
I thought it was just part of growing up—her coming out of her shell.
But now I understand—she had met someone she liked.
Most of the photos in the album were ones I had never seen. They captured Khalil in moments even I hadn’t noticed: every smile, every frown, every glance, even a casual stretch—she had preserved them all through her lens.
Ever since we got married, Adriana never touched a camera again.
Once, I asked if she could take a photo of me, but she brushed it off, saying her camera had been lost. Then she recommended a famous photographer instead.
Turns out it wasn’t lost at all—she just didn’t want to use that lens unless it was for someone she truly loved.
My eyes were too dry to cry anymore. I quietly placed the photo album back where I found it.
On my phone, I booked a plane ticket and drafted a divorce agreement.
If she loved Khalil so much, then I’d set her free.
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