They were all of Iris and her ex, Gavin. Some were from their trips, some from fooling around on a college field, and a few were of them kissing under the stars.
Those photos were snapshots of their young love.
I remembered finding these photos right after Iris and I married.
I was so jealous, and I asked her to throw them out. She agreed.
I didn't expect that she still kept these after three years of marriage.
Three years later, she still had them. She'd sometimes pull out that book and flip through it.
I put everything back quietly and then heard Iris' muffled voice.
"Heading out for your trip?" she asked.
"Yeah," I said, without looking back, continuing with my packing.
Iris looked at the photos I'd just put away and said with guilt, "Albert, I'll go throw these out now!"
I stopped her. "No need. They're your amiable memories. It's okay to keep them."
My tone was flat, casual, like it didn't matter.
Iris stared at me for a long time, seemingly unable to accept my reaction, then suddenly got upset.
She grabbed the book, pulled out the photos, and tore them up before tossing them in the trash.
I didn't react. Suddenly, Iris hugged me from behind. "Albert, I'm sorry.