I was completely unaware that the picture had been taken.
It was from the day we visited that peaceful park with its meandering walks and the ancient oak tree that broke in two at the trunk during yoga. While I was relaxing on a bench, Ethan had insisted on fetching me a smoothie from the small kiosk in the corner.
He detested fruity beverages, yet he came back with two. We chuckled. I made fun of him for not being adventurous with flavor. He gave an eye roll. He swept a lock of hair away from my face. He kept his fingers there for too long.
That instant.
That unguarded, delicate second—was what someone photographed.
And suddenly, it was everywhere.
"Power Couple in the Making?" the headline shouted across a glossy tabloid. Under it: **"Billionaire Ethan Blackwood and His Mysterious Wife Share Intimate Moment in Central Park."**
There were so many interesting messages in my mailbox. Group chats buzzed on my phone. I even received the picture with a heart emoji from one of the yoga parents.
It was a lovely, obnoxious image. Soft autumn light framed us, and we looked... content. In love. Natural.
As if nothing was difficult.
That night, I cuddled up on the couch and stared at it for a long time as the baby monitor's soft hum reverberated in the background. I was left alone with the digital representation of a life I was unaware we were depicting as Ethan left to take a call in his office.
Silently, he came in with a glass of water.
He said, "I saw it."
He had, of course. Most likely before I did. most likely had a statement prepared by a PR staff.
I prepared myself. "Should we take any action?"
He hesitated. "Want to?"
I was taken aback and blinked. "I assumed you would be... irritated."
"I was," he said, taking a seat next to me. "First of all. I dislike being watched.
"Welcome to my world," I murmured, smirking. Then he did something I didn't expect—he reached for my phone, pulled up the photo again, and stared at it.
His thumb brushed over the screen. "We look happy." I didn't answer. Because we did. And I wasn't sure what scared me more—that the world believed it... Or that, somewhere deep down, I was starting to believe it too.