I stayed too closed. Protected myself so well I forgot how to let the light in.
His lips brush my ear. Sending a bone-wracking shiver through me.
“You ready?”
I nod, unable to trust my voice.
“Expose.”
Lay it all bare. Every wall still standing wrecked with one word.
He helps me slide the photo paper into position the way I helped him all those years ago.
Click the timer on.
In the red glow, I watch the seconds count down while his body brackets mine, solid and warm andthere.
The timer beeps.
“Now the developer.”
He walks me toward the trays, his hands still covering mine, his chest still pressed to my back.
“This is where the magic happens. You said that once. Watching something invisible become real.”
That's what we've been. Invisible. A secret nobody could see. And now?—
He guides my hands into the first tray. The chemical is cool against my skin, his fingers warm between mine.
“Agitate gently.” His voice is a rumble against my hair. “Not too rough. Not too soft. Just enough to keep things moving.”
We were never gentle with each other. Too scared. Too desperate. Maybe this time we can learn.
The image starts to appear. Gray smudges become shapes. Shadows sharpen to contrast.
“You’re doing so well,” he murmurs, and the words land somewhere deep in my chest, in a place that hasn’t been touched since before everything broke apart.
The picture clarifies. Sharpens.
It's him.
The shot I took at the damaged window—Everett in golden hour light, eyes catching fire, profile sharp against the soft blur of the great room behind him. Fifth-generation owner, every line of his body carrying the weight of his legacy.
Maybe I didn’t know I was going to develop this one. Maybe I always did.
“Stop bath,” he says softly, lifting our joined hands from the developer. “Halt the reaction. Lock in what you’ve got.”
Stop running. Stop hiding. Stop letting fear dictate the ending.
We transfer the print together. His thumb strokes the inside of my wrist.
“Fixer.” His nose traces the curve of my ear. “Make it permanent. Make sure it lasts.”
Make sure we last.
The print goes into the third tray. His hands cover mine, holding me steady while the image sets.
“And then?”
