Out of Frame

The shock hit like a bullet, driving straight into my heart.

The woman in the photos was playful in some shots, seductive in others, pure and innocent in the next.

Every image seemed to smash through the boundaries Julian Vance had sworn he would never cross.

He had once promised in front of the media, with me standing behind the camera, "I only shoot commercial model work. If anyone wants intimate portraits, don't come to me. I have strict rules about that."

Yet the girl in front of me had offered herself to the photographer without the slightest reservation.

Every page was a slap across my face, loud enough to wake me from years of self-deception.

I slowly set the album down, as if someone had drained every bit of strength from my body.

When Julian pushed open the door, his mouth parted in surprise. A flicker of guilt crossed his eyes.

After a few seconds of silence, I broke the suffocating stillness first.

"Who is this girl?" My voice was terrifyingly calm.

In the dim room, he did not notice that my entire body was shaking.

He was calmer than I expected. "A client."

"When we first started from nothing, we would've starved if I hadn't taken extra jobs."

My eyes fell on the last photo in the album. The date was two days ago.

Two nights ago, rain had been pounding outside. I had burned with a fever so severe my head felt like it was splitting open. When I dragged myself out of bed, he was nowhere to be found.

His explanation had been light as air. "I was here the whole time. You must have been delirious from the fever, silly."

Maybe I really had been a complete fool.

Tears gathered in my eyes, and at last I asked the question that had been lodged in my heart for five years.

"You've never taken a single photo of me. Not one."

Whenever we traveled, other women's boyfriends took pretty pictures of them.

My husband was one of the world's top photographers, yet he would not even touch a camera for me.

"Photography is work. We're here to have fun."

Every time, I would force an awkward smile.

But the answer stayed stuck in my chest like a splinter, working its way deeper again and again.

I stared at him until his guilt had nowhere left to hide. Finally, he gathered enough courage to tell the truth.

"Vivian Blair gives me inspiration. That's all. Do you really want to keep asking?"

The darkroom was very quiet.

Quiet enough that only I could hear the sound of something inside me breaking.

Julian's phone suddenly rang, shattering the silence.

A woman's voice came through the speaker, determined and coy at the same time. "It's my birthday today. If you don't come, I'll find another photographer to shoot me. And I'm going to make it very intimate."

I could imagine the sweet voice belonging to the girl in those photos.

Julian panicked for a second, then grabbed his camera and left without looking back.

So fast that he forgot today was also my birthday.

I sat at the dining table and ate the cake alone.

Then I replied to the only message that had wished me a happy birthday.

"Can you help me make my birthday wish come true? I want a divorce."