~Arya~There were dozens of them. Some tacked to the wall, spread across a table, some clean and crisps, others worn around the edges. All of me.My throat tightened. This was me at different stages of my life. Pictures of me from my childhood, as a teen, in college, with my family… As a married woman. In some, I was alone, standing idly in crowds. In others, I was talking to people, getting into a car, eating at diners. There was me on my twentieth birthday, seated behind a piano with a bright smile on my face at a recital. I laughed with my parents. Me on my wedding day with Edgar.I rubbed my hand against my chest violently. I couldn’t breathe. I was gasping for air, struggling. He had pictures of every moment.If he wasn’t someone I had known all my life, I would have gotten a lot freaked out than I was at them.Was that how he spent the last few years of his life? Stalking me? Keeping track of everything I did and taking pictures as evidence? I traced my fingers over every singl
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