Chapter 3: What Was in the Photograph
Nobody moved.
The photograph sat on the table near the door like it had been waiting there for years.
Daniel stared at it.
His jaw was tight.
The baby made a small sound against his chest and he shifted her automatically, but his eyes didn't leave the photo.
"Rebecca," he said.
"Where did you get that."
It wasn't a question.
"Your mother sent it to me," Rebecca said.
"Three weeks ago."
I looked at Margaret.
She was standing very still near the window.
Her arms had dropped to her sides.
The composure she'd walked in with — the soft smile, the tears over the baby — all of it was gone.
"Is that true?" I asked her.
Margaret said nothing.
"Margaret." Daniel's voice cracked on her name.
"Did you send her that photograph?"
"I was trying to make you see—"
"Answer the question."
A long pause.
"Yes."
Daniel closed his eyes for one second.
Then he looked at me.
"I need you to see it."
He walked to the table, picked up the photograph with his free hand, and brought it to me.
I took it.
It was a picture of Daniel and Rebecca.
They were standing outside what looked like a church.
Rebecca was in a white dress.
Daniel was in a dark suit.
They were both smiling.
It looked like a wedding photo.
My chest went cold.
"When was this taken?"
"Fourteen years ago," Daniel said.
"Our wedding day."
"I know what it looks like," I said carefully.
"But why did your mother send it to her?
Why now?"
"Because of what's written on the back," Rebecca said from the doorway.
I turned the photograph over.
There was handwriting on the back.
Margaret's handwriting.
I recognized it from birthday cards.
*He never stopped loving you.
This baby should have been yours.
Come and see what you lost.*
The room went so quiet I could hear the monitor beeping in the hallway.
I read it again.
Then I set the photograph face-down on the blanket.
"Get out," I said.
Margaret took a step forward.
"Sweetheart, I only—"
"Don't." My voice came out steadier than I felt.
"Don't call me that.
Don't take another step toward me or my daughter."
"You don't understand the history—"
"I understand enough." I looked at Daniel.
"Did you know she sent this?"
"No."
"Did you know she was still in contact with Rebecca?"
He hesitated.
That half-second hesitation landed like a stone.
"Daniel."
"I knew they spoke sometimes.
I didn't know it was like this."
Margaret moved toward him instead.
"Daniel, Rebecca loved you.
She would have given you a family.
This woman—" she gestured toward me "—has only been in your life for three years.
Rebecca was there for six.
She was there when your father d*ed.
She was there when you lost the business.
She earned her place in this family."
"She's my ex-wife," Daniel said.
"That place ended."
"It didn't have to."
Rebecca, still standing near the door, spoke quietly.
"Margaret.
Stop."
Margaret turned.
"You came, didn't you?
You're here."
"I came because I thought something was wrong.
Because your message said Daniel needed help." Rebecca's voice was flat.
"You lied to me too."
Margaret's chin lifted.
"I did what needed to be done."
"You manipulated both of us," Rebecca said.
"On the day his daughter was born." She looked at me.
"I'm sorry.
Genuinely.
I had no idea what she told you I was here for."
I believed her.
I didn't want to, but I did.
The nurse, who had been pressed against the wall this entire time, cleared her throat.
"I think — given the circumstances — I should ask the non-family visitors to step out."
Margaret drew herself up.
"I am family."
"Ma'am." The nurse's voice was kind but immovable.
"I'm going to need to ask you to wait outside."
Margaret looked at Daniel.
He said nothing.
She waited another moment.
Then she picked up her bag, walked past Rebecca without looking at her, and left.
The door swung shut.
Daniel sat down heavily in the chair beside my bed.
The baby was still against his chest.
He pressed his lips to the top of her head and didn't lift them for a long moment.
Rebecca picked up her flowers from the floor where she'd set them.
"I'll go," she said.
"But — for what it's worth — she's beautiful."
She left without waiting for an answer.
The room was quiet.
Daniel looked at me.
May you like
"I need to tell you something," he said.
"And I should have told you a long time ago."
