When I got home, ready to have it out with Gwen, I found the house decked out for Quintin's baby shower. In the living room, all the photos of Gwen and me from the past ten years, along with our pre-wedding pictures, had been torn down. In their place were family portraits of Gwen, Keith, and Quintin—chronicling from pregnancy, labor, and delivery, right through to Quintin turning one month old.In the bottom right corner of every photo, Gwen had carefully handwritten the date with a pen and for eleven months, not a single day had been missed. The photos were plastered all over the house, so dense they completely covered the walls.That was when it all clicked. During the year I was abroad for further studies, I'd deliberately worked around the time difference to call her when she should have been free. But she always turned down my video calls, claiming she was busy.I had naively thought her workload was piling up, and I even felt guilty for putting her through so much. It never
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