My Wedding Photos Belonged To His First Love Chapter 06

My Wedding Photos Belonged To His First Love Chapter 06

“The position of bride-whoever wants it can have it.”

The screen went black. There was no music in the ballroom. Only a dense, swelling murmur of

voices.

Derek’s father rose from his seat and slapped Derek hard across the face.

“Look at what you’ve done.”

Margaret clutched the table, her lips trembling. “You’ve brought nothing but disgrace to the

Sullivan name.”

Lily grabbed Derek’s arm, sobbing. “Derek, I really never imagined Nora would do this.”

Derek looked down at her hand.

After a long moment, he pulled his arm away.

For the first time, he didn’t comfort her.

He just took out his phone and dialed my number, over and over.

Powered off.

His texts all came back undelivered.

Emails bounced back.

He stood in a sea of white roses and thought of something I had said so many times.

“Derek, could you really look at my photos just once?”

He never had.

Now, the screen was filled with my evidence.

And he couldn’t find me anywhere.

I went to Northport.

An old but quiet neighborhood. Downstairs, there was a small photo shop.

The owner was named George Parker. He was in his fifties, and the first time he saw me, he asked,

“You know how to retouch, kid?”

I nodded. “A little.”

He said, “Perfect. My eyes aren’t what they used to be. I’m short-handed.”

So I settled into that little shop.

During the day, I took ID photos and restored old pictures. At night, I organized my own portfolio.

The first few nights, I couldn’t sleep well.

My dreams were full of wedding screens, white veils, ocean waves, and Derek’s voice saying, “It’s

just a dress.”

I’d wake to a sky still dark outside the window.

I’d sit at the desk and wipe down my camera.

George saw it once and said, “An old camera, huh?”

I said, “My mom left it to me. Somebody took it apart.”

He didn’t ask more. He just rummaged through a drawer and found an old lens cap. “It’s not worth

much, but it’ll fit for now.”

I took it. The moment the cap clicked into place, some small part inside me went quiet.

Derek found me half a month later.

I was taking a portrait for an elderly couple. Married forty years, they wanted a commemorative

photo.

The old man stood ramrod straight. His wife scolded him for smiling too stiffly.

Just as I pressed the shutter, the bell above the door chimed.

Derek stood there.

His suit was rumpled. Dark circles shadowed his eyes.

He saw me, and his throat moved. “Nora.”

I lowered the camera. “Here for a photo?”

He froze.

I repeated, “ID photos are twenty dollars. Retouching is extra.

The old woman glanced between us and asked quietly, “Nora, you know him?”

I smiled. “An old client.”

The color drained from Derek’s face.

Old.

Client.

The words hit him like needles.

After the customers left, he set a box on the counter.

Inside was the bracelet. And the dismantled camera parts.

“I had someone repair it, but a few components are still missing,” he said. His voice was hoarse.

“I’m sorry.”

I looked at it but didn’t take it.

“Mr. Sullivan, all repairs require a service ticket. For anything of value, I’d recommend a professional restoration service.”

He stared at me. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

I looked up. “Then how should I talk? Should I cry and thank you for finally remembering it

mattered?”

He was silent.

After a long time, he said, “What happened on the wedding day-I deserved it.”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

He looked like that single word had physically struck him.

He used to be terrified of my tears.

Now he was more terrified that there were none.

He pulled a document from his coat. “The penthouse has been transferred to your name. The braid

collaboration profits, the copyright to your work-I’ve had it all sorted out.”

I flipped a page.

Very thorough.

Three years late.

I said, “Leave it here.”

A flicker of light sparked in Derek’s eyes. “You’ll accept it?”

“It’s mine. Why wouldn’t I?”

The light died.

He asked quietly, “What about us?”

I closed the file. “There is no ‘us.””

Derek’s fingers trembled. “Nora, I know I was wrong. I just didn’t see things clearly back then.”

I laughed. “You saw everything perfectly clear. You just didn’t like what you saw when you looked at

me.”

He looked at me.

I said, “The best parts for her. Whatever was left for me. You saw that with perfect clarity. You just

never cared that I saw it too.”

The bell chimed again.

A young man walked in carrying a bouquet of sunflowers. “Nora, George asked me to bring these. He said it’s your birthday.”

I blinked. I’d forgotten myself.

Derek froze too.

He looked at the calendar on the counter.

Today was my birthday.

For three years, he had never remembered it.

He said quietly, “Happy birthday.”

i took the flowers and smiled at the guy. *Thank yous *

Derek stood there like a person who had at ved far too late

His words had finally come

But the doot was already shut.