The Summer of 2006

I didn’t tell Mia about the photograph.

I wasn’t sure why.

Maybe because saying it aloud would make everything feel real.

Blackwood. Summer. 2006.

Three faded words written on the back of a photograph I had carried for years.

Three words that shouldn’t have existed.

My mother had never mentioned the Blackwoods.

Not once.

I spent most of the night staring at the photograph.

Eventually, I made a decision.

I was going to find out what happened in 2006.

Not because the stranger told me to.

Because I needed to know.

⸻

The university archives were located in the oldest building on campus.

According to Mia, hardly anyone went there.

“Which means,” she said as we walked across the courtyard, “you’ve chosen the creepiest possible place to investigate your mysterious family history.”

“It’s not family history.”

“You found a secret message on your mother’s photograph.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“Aria.”

“What?”

“You’re investigating a wealthy family who clearly knows something about your mother.”

I sighed.

“When you say it like that, it sounds dramatic.”

“It is dramatic.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

Inside the archives, an elderly librarian greeted us.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for university records from 2006.”

She adjusted her glasses.

“Student records?”

“Anything involving the Blackwood family.”

Her expression changed.

Only slightly.

But I noticed.

“Blackwood?”

“Yes.”

She looked at me for a moment.

“Why?”

“I’m doing research for a class.”

It was the first lie that came to mind.

She didn’t look convinced.

“Most of those records aren’t digitized.”

“That’s okay.”

She pointed toward a row of shelves.

“Yearbooks are over there. Old newspapers are in the back.”

“Thank you.”

Mia waited until we were out of earshot.

“That woman definitely knows something.”

“You’re making everything worse.”

“I’m making everything more interesting.”

We spent the next hour searching.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Blackwood.

Nothing.

I was beginning to think the message was a dead end.

Then Mia pulled a dusty yearbook from a shelf.

“Look.”

I took it from her.

Silver Moon University — 2006

My heart began beating faster.

We sat at one of the tables and opened it.

Page after page.

Graduation photographs.

Sports teams.

Clubs.

University events.

Then I saw the name.

Richard Blackwood.

I froze.

There he was.

Twenty years younger.

Same eyes.

Same sharp features.

Standing beside a group of students.

I leaned closer.

Then my breath caught.

A girl stood beside him.

Long dark hair.

Soft smile.

Familiar eyes.

I knew her.

My fingers tightened around the page.

“Mia…”

She leaned over.

“Who is that?”

I couldn’t answer.

Because I was staring at my mother.

⸻

“That’s impossible.”

Mia’s voice was barely a whisper.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the photograph.

My mother was younger.

Happy.

Alive.

And standing beside Richard Blackwood.

I traced the photograph with my fingertip.

I had never seen this picture before.

“Are you sure that’s your mother?”

I nodded.

“I’d know her anywhere.”

Mia looked at the page.

“Why would your mother be here?”

“I don’t know.”

“And why is she standing with Richard Blackwood?”

“I don’t know.”

The questions were beginning to pile up.

I turned the page.

There was a caption beneath the photograph.

Summer Leadership Program — 2006

Several names were listed.

Richard Blackwood.

Elena Blackwood.

And—

Isabella Vale.

My mother’s name.

I stopped breathing.

Mia looked at me.

“Aria…”

I closed the yearbook.

“We need to leave.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to think.”

I stood too quickly.

The chair scraped against the floor.

And that’s when I heard a voice behind us.

“What are you doing with that?”

I turned.

Kael stood at the end of the aisle.

His eyes went straight to the yearbook in my hands.

Then to my face.

He walked toward us.

“Where did you find that?”

“The archives.”

He stopped in front of the table.

I held the yearbook against my chest.

“You knew.”

His expression tightened.

“Knew what?”

“My mother was here.”

Silence.

Kian appeared behind him.

He looked from me to the yearbook.

Then his face changed.

“Aria…”

I looked at both twins.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kael glanced at the photograph.

“We didn’t know.”

“Your father knew.”

“We don’t know what our father knew.”

“Then ask him.”

Kael’s jaw tightened.

“I will.”

I stared at him.

“Tonight?”

He hesitated.

“Yes.”

I nodded.

“Good.”

I turned to leave.

Kian caught up with me.

“Aria.”

I stopped.

“What?”

He looked genuinely concerned.

“Don’t let one photograph make you believe you know the whole story.”

I looked at him.

“I don’t.”

I held up the yearbook.

“But now I know there’s a story.”

Neither twin answered.

I walked away.

Behind me, I heard Kian quietly ask his brother:

“How much does Dad know?”

Kael’s answer was almost inaudible.

“More than he’s told us.”

I kept walking.

For the first time since arriving at Silver Moon University, I wasn’t wondering whether the Blackwood family had something to do with my mother.

I knew they did.

The only question left was—

what happened between them twenty years ago?