STILL YOU(PART 3)- THE PHOTOGRAPH

Lauretta looked at Elias. Then at the photograph. Then back at Elias. "That's not an answer." "I know." "Who is she?" He slipped one hand into his pocket. "Someone I knew." "That's incredibly vague." "It was a long time ago." Lauretta studied his face. "You look uncomfortable." "I am." "Why?" He glanced at the photograph again. "Because you look exactly like her." Lauretta laughed. It came out too quickly. "Excuse me?" "I didn't say that." "You absolutely did." "I said you look like her." "That's worse." He smiled faintly. "I'm aware." She folded her arms. "How long ago was this?" "Twenty years." Lauretta's smile disappeared. "Twenty?" He nodded. "How old were you?" "Fourteen." She looked at the photograph again. The woman couldn't have been much older than sixteen. Young. Beautiful. And strangely familiar. "Who was she?" Elias was quiet. Then "I don't know." Lauretta frowned. "You took the photograph." "Yes." "You knew her." "Yes." "And you don't know who she was?" "No." "That's impossible." "I know." He looked at her. "I found the photograph years later." "Where?" "My father's house." Lauretta waited. "That sounds like the beginning of a very complicated story." "It probably is." She smiled. "Are you going to tell me?" "Not tonight." She raised an eyebrow. "Why?" "Because you're looking at me like you're going to spend the entire evening interrogating me." "I wasn't planning to." "You were." "Maybe." He laughed. And just like that, the tension broke. The music continued around them. Someone passed with a tray of champagne. Elias picked up two glasses. "Come." "Where?" "Somewhere quieter." He led her toward a balcony overlooking the city. The night air was cool. Lauretta rested her hands on the railing. For a while, neither spoke. Then Elias stood beside her. "I owe you an explanation." "Eventually." "Eventually?" She turned toward him. "I'm not going to force you." He looked at her. "Why?" "Because I don't know you well enough to demand your secrets." Something softened in his expression. "You should." "What?" "Know me." She smiled. "I'm working on it." He looked at her for a long moment. Then he reached for her hand. Slowly. Giving her enough time to pull away. She didn't. His fingers closed around hers. Warm. Steady. Familiar. Lauretta looked down at their hands. "Have we done this before?" The question slipped out before she could stop it. Elias went still. She looked up. "I don't know why I asked that." Neither did he. But he didn't let go. "No," he said quietly. Then, after a pause— "Not in this life." Lauretta stared at him. He seemed surprised by his own words. She smiled. "That was a strange thing to say." "I know." "Very strange." "I know." She laughed. He smiled. And somehow, the moment became less strange. They stayed on the balcony for another hour. Talking. About nothing. About everything. When Elias finally drove her home, he walked her to the door. "Thank you for tonight." "I should be thanking you." "For what?" "For giving me something to think about." She smiled. "I already had enough." He laughed. "Goodnight, Lauretta." She reached for the door. "Elias?" "Yes?" "Next time, tell me about the girl." He looked at her. "I will." She opened the door. Then stopped. "And Elias?" "Yes?" She smiled. "I liked the photograph." His expression softened. "I know." She closed the door. At 1:17 that morning, Elias returned to his study. He opened an old wooden drawer. Inside was the original photograph. The same lake. The same girl. The same handwriting on the back. He turned it over. There were only four words. You always find me. Elias stared at them. Then looked at the photograph again. At the girl. At the face that had haunted a part of his memory for twenty years. And for the first time, he noticed something he had never noticed before. In the corner of the photograph, reflected faintly in the lake— was a second person. A boy. Fourteen years old. Elias. Standing beside her. Holding her hand. He dropped the photograph. Because he had never remembered being there.

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