After we hung up, I sat in silence, staring at the picture on my phone.
What was meant to be an innocent snapshot of my day had turned into something much darker, a wedge of doubt that neither of us could ignore.
That small, barely visible reflection had become a ghost from the past, pulling me back into a place I thought I had left behind.
In the days that followed, things between us felt strained, different. No matter how much I tried to explain that I had been alone, the image of that figure in the reflection haunted us both.
It was as if that moment, that one fleeting detail in the rear window, had opened a door we couldn’t close.
A door to the past, to questions my husband couldn’t shake, and to a trust that now felt fragile, hanging by a thread.
The reflection, so small and easy to miss, had cast a shadow over everything. And suddenly, what should have been just another picture had become the start of something neither of us saw coming.
