Las lágrimas me picaron los ojos.
I stared at the prom photograph.
Two teenagers smiling beneath decorations in a school gymnasium.
Two people who’d believed forever was a simple promise.
I stood slowly.
“I need to be alone.”
Peter nodded.
“Of course.”
He didn’t reach for me.
Didn’t ask me to stay.
Didn’t demand forgiveness.
Instead, he slid the photograph closer.
“Keep it.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because it was always yours.”
I picked up the picture and walked away.
I barely remember passing Hal and Marjorie as they entered the dining room.
Marjorie called my name.
I think I smiled.
But I couldn’t stop walking.
Back in my cabin, I sat on the edge of the bed with the photograph resting on my knees.
I studied the girl in the blue dress.
Her smile.
Her confidence.
The way she leaned toward Peter as though she had nothing to fear.
