Sonia M. Rompoti, MSc, Bsc

She found it while looking for something else.

A photograph, tucked into the back of his bedside drawer, printed and creased at one corner. The two of them at a friend’s wedding, years ago — before the apartment, before they’d said those words, before they were *this*. They were standing slightly apart in the way you stand when you’re trying not to look like you want to close the distance.

She remembered the night. She’d been convinced, that evening, that he wasn’t interested. That she’d misread every signal.

He’d had it printed. And kept it.

Vivienne sat on the edge of the bed and held the photograph. She heard the door open behind her, heard him stop when he saw her.

“That’s from Clara’s wedding,” she said.

A pause. “Yeah.”

“You had it printed.”

“My grandmother always said you should print things.” He came and sat beside her. “Otherwise it doesn’t exist the right way.”

She looked at the photograph again. At her own face, turned slightly toward him, which was probably why she’d thought she was being obvious. At his face, turned the same way.

“We were both being ridiculous,” she said.

“We were.” He took the photograph gently from her hands and looked at it. “But I kept it because even then I knew.”

“Knew what?”

He looked at her. “That I’d want to remember that exact version of you. Before you knew I was watching.”

She took the photograph back. She was going to get it framed, she decided. Put it somewhere he’d see it every day.

To witness someone fully — even before they are yours — is its own kind of love.

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✦  Today’s Reflection

Is there a moment from early in your relationship that you’ve held onto privately — a feeling, an image, a knowing? Have you shared it?