Chasing His Muse

When my coworkers found out my boyfriend, Dwayne Norton, was a photographer, they were green with envy. "Oh my god! You must get the best photos so easily!"

"I'm so jealous. Mine still doesn't even know how to focus a camera!"

I just smiled and shook my head. "He only shoots landscapes, never people."

That was Dwayne's golden rule.

Even on our first anniversary, when I told Dwayne I only wanted a simple souvenir photo, he still lost his temper. "My ex-girlfriend and I broke up precisely because she kept nagging me to take her picture."

To keep us together, I spent the next seven years walking on eggshells, meticulously minding my words and actions, terrified of crossing his boundary.

Until today, I was scrolling through social media when I saw a new post from my influencer friend, Aviana Reed.

"My personal photographer has been shooting me for seven years. Every single shot is a masterpiece!"

The top-liked comment read, "It's an honor to shoot my muse."

The profile picture was a solid black circle. It looked exactly like Dwayne's account.

The comment section was completely swooning over the two of them.

"Everyone in the industry knows Dwayne only shoots landscapes. Aviana is the only person he'll break his rule for."

"Have you guys seen Dwayne's usual work? It's always so cold and desolate. But the second he shoots Aviana, the lighting and mood are incredibly tender."

"I said seven years ago that Aviana's photographer definitely had feelings for her, and everyone called me delusional."

The comments were buzzing with excitement.

Inside, I was turning to ice.

It had never even crossed my mind.

The patient, gentle photographer who had spent seven years capturing flawless photos of Aviana and the boyfriend who had refused to take a single photo of me in our seven years together were the same person.

Beside me in bed, Dwayne mumbled my name in his sleep, but I felt entirely numb.

People in the comments started sharing screenshots of Aviana's alternate profile.

That was when I realized Dwayne and Aviana shared a history that ran far deeper than I ever knew.

She always called him her "softie".

"I was starving, so my softie made me spaghetti bolognese."

The spaghetti in the photo looked perfect.

But all I could think about was the first time Dwayne cooked for me, when he burned the noodles to a crisp.

He had looked so embarrassed back then. "Just wait. I'll learn how to do it right!"

Eventually, Dwayne did learn, but he cooked for Aviana.

"My energy was totally off during today's shoot, but he waited out in a blizzard for five hours without a single word of complaint."

I remembered vividly how much Dwayne hated the snow.

No matter how much I begged him over the years, he refused to ever go to Northia to see the snow with me.

Yet, these photos were telling me a different story. The man who happily let himself get covered in snow was Dwayne.

A dull ache throbbed in my chest.

Dwayne took the photos he refused to take for Aviana. He stood in the snow he loathed for her.

Even now, a part of me wanted to live in denial. But I had to face the truth.

To Dwayne, Aviana was special. His stubborn boundaries were meant for me alone.