Chapter 3

Adam's POV

The family photoshoot was scheduled at Kristy's photography studio.

Susanne Wilson, her mother and my future mother-in-law, who had always been polite and courteous with me, was especially enthusiastic that day. But that enthusiasm wasn't directed at me.

"Victor, hurry. Come stand next to Kristy."

She took Victor by the hand and affectionately positioned him in the center of the main set, right next to Kristy.

Victor looked a little embarrassed and shot me a glance.

"Mrs. Simpson, is this really okay? Adam is right there."

"Oh, please. You've been partners with Kristy for so long, you're practically family. What's one picture?" Susanne retorted, chuckling warmly.

Then she turned to me. "Adam, since you know photography, we'll have to trouble you today. You can help with the lights and hold up the reflector."

Just like that, I was demoted from future son-in-law to crew member.

I stood outside the set, holding the heavy reflector while I watched them pose under the studio lights.

Kristy, her parents, and Victor stood together, forming a picture-perfect family portrait.

And I wasn't included in it. Something seemed to be pressing heavily on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

Susanne seemed to notice my mood.

"Adam, smile a little. Don't bring down everyone's good mood," she called out from behind the camera.

To her, my silence was ruining the atmosphere.

I looked over at Kristy, hoping she'd say something. Instead, she just knitted her brows and mouthed to me, "Think about the big picture."

It was that same phrase again. She always used ideas such as "be grateful" and "mind the occasion" to demand my compliance and make me give in time and time again.

During the shoot, a harsh beam of light hit Victor directly in the face, making him squint instinctively.

Kristy noticed immediately. "Turn the light down a little. Use the softbox."

She remembered he was sensitive to bright lights. She remembered every little habit of his. Yet, she'd completely forgotten that I had an old wrist injury and couldn't hold heavy objects for too long.

The reflector grew heavier by the second, and a familiar ache spread through my wrist. I'd fractured it three years ago when I fell while trying to protect her precious Leica camera.

I still remembered how frantic she'd been that day, and how she'd stayed outside the treatment room the whole night.

Later, she hand-crafted a weight-reducing camera strap for me, and for months, she insisted on carrying my gear bags.

That same strap was later taken by her and used to decorate Victor's livestream setup. She'd said it looked good on camera.

These memories made my chest tighten with a suffocating ache.

The pain in my wrist grew worse and worse until I finally couldn't hold on any longer, and the reflector slipped from my hands.

Everyone's eyes fell on me.

Kristy hurried over. Without so much as checking on my wrist, she picked up the reflector from the floor first.

"What's going on? Can we finish the shoot or not?"

I looked at her, swallowing the dull pain shooting through my wrist.

"My wrist hurts."

Only then did she notice my slightly swollen wrist. Her brows furrowed even tighter.

"How could you be so careless?"

There was no concern in her voice. Only blame.

"Can you still finish the photos in time for the account's next posting schedule?" she asked.

In that instance, my heart went completely dead. Her thoughtfulness was reserved for someone else, and her memory was purely selective.

I shook my head and slowly got to my feet.

"I can't shoot anymore."

With that, I turned and walked toward the equipment area without sparing her another glance.

The phone in my pocket buzzed. It was a message from the residency program team.

"Mr. Cox, due to weather conditions, your overnight train originally scheduled for seven days from now has been moved up to tomorrow night. Please prepare accordingly."

Might as well.

I walked over to the worktable, took off the wrist brace I'd worn for three years, and gently set it down.

Kristy had personally put it on me all those years ago. And now, I was giving it back.

The photographer handed the raw files over to Kristy for approval. In the photos, her family and Victor were smiling radiantly.

Only in the reflection of a pane of glass in the corner was there a blurry figure, almost impossible to make out.

That was me.