My husband is a terrible photographer. Which is a problem, because I’m a beauty influencer with over a million followers. In the three years we’ve been married, Leo has been the perfect partner in every other way. He tracks my cycle on his calendar, kneels to massage my sore ankles after a long day in heels, and makes sure I have three solid meals when I’m too lost in editing a video to remember to eat. But whenever I ask him to take a simple picture for me, that pained look crosses his face. “Babe, I’m telling you, I just don’t have the eye for it. Please don’t make me.” On the rare occasion I could guilt him into it, the results were always comical. The lens, they say, captures the heart of the person behind it. If that were true, Leo’s heart saw me as a bizarrely angled cryptid or, at best, sixty pounds heavier than I am. I eventually gave up. Today, rushing to get footage for my big Christmas brand deal, Leo spoke up from the doorway. “You can’t frame it like that,” he said suddenly. “It’s going to look awful.” In three years of marriage, it was the first time he’d ever offered a single piece of photographic advice. I thought he’d been secretly studying, trying to find a new way to connect with my work. My heart swelled. Beaming, I filmed a little behind-the-scenes clip of his advice and posted it to my story, only to have a tidal wave of ice-cold water thrown in my face by my own comment section. “Wait… isn’t that the guy who used to be Ava Sinclair’s exclusive photographer? No way he ‘doesn’t have an eye for it.’” “To you his first words are ‘you’ll break the lens.’ To her, they were ‘I’m all yours, maestro.’” “Holy shit. Your ‘bad at photos’ husband is LEO DAWSON?!” “I’m more shocked that Leo Dawson is MARRIED. What the hell was I doing shipping him and Ava all those years?” 1 The comments kept pouring in, a relentless flood. “You’ve got good taste, I’ll give you that. It was an open secret in the industry. For Ava’s big competition, Leo stayed up for three straight nights shooting and editing. The second the show was over, he literally collapsed backstage. God, their story is still iconic.” “You think that’s iconic? What about how he just dropped his camera and walked away from the entire industry after she left? He went completely dark. Talk about devotion.” “Girl… I think there’s a little green sprouting on your head.” … The shippers and the trolls took over my comments, and the few remaining were just mourning a love story that never got its ending. Three thousand, seven hundred comments, all piecing together a man I didn't know at all. This wasn’t the Leo I had fallen in love with—the steady, reliable man who was so calm and self-assured that I was the one who had to nervously bring up the topic of marriage. This was a reckless, passionate kid who would race through a rainstorm to explain a misunderstanding at her apartment, who would loudly and publicly claim her as his in front of her other admirers. The night before Ava left the country was Christmas Eve. That same day, Leo Dawson quit his job at the studio, put down his camera for good, and locked himself in his room, staring at the last set of photos they ever took together. It was a bridal shoot. A joint creation. It was Ava who had taught him how to find the angle, how to adjust the light. They had chosen the gown and the backdrop together. It was their shared memory. He watched the slideshow, and with every image, he wept. I scrolled through the comments, reading their entire history. The bright white of the screen burned, and my eyes stung with tears I refused to let fall. I knew that set of photos. They were legendary. They were the key that unlocked the doors to the international fashion scene for Ava. I remember seeing them back then and thinking, the camera really does have a soul. How much love must a photographer have for his subject, for an audience to feel it radiating from a still image? The composition Leo had just suggested for my video… it was the same framing he’d used for Ava, all those years ago. Was it because Christmas was coming again? Was he thinking of her? “Hey, what’s this? You’re crying?” Leo’s soft chuckle broke the silence. The calloused pad of his thumb brushed against the corner of my eye. I flinched away, forcing a smile onto my face as I tried to keep my voice steady. “Have you ever studied photography? The composition you suggested was really beautiful.” I took a breath. “My regular shooter for the event backed out. I could really use a photographer to save the day. How about it, husband?” Everyone has a past. And for the past few years, he had been so good to me. It was real. Besides, I’d just gotten the positive pregnancy test last week. The future we’d always talked about, our little family of three, was finally within reach. If he said yes, it would mean he had truly moved on. I could pretend I never saw any of this. I could let it all go. But Leo just froze. A long, heavy silence stretched between us before he finally spoke. “I’ve never studied it. You know that. I’m terrible at taking your picture.” His words made my desperate attempt at peace feel pathetic. Laughable. The whole world knew his story with Ava. It was still plastered all over the internet. Leo, my cautious, careful Leo, was telling such a clumsy, easily disproven lie. I lowered my gaze, my voice barely a whisper. “Is that so?” “Then what are all of these comments about?” 2 With the last shred of denial torn away, a frantic energy seized me. I demanded to know why. Leo was silent for a long time. “There is no why,” he finally said, his voice flat. “I loved her. And sometimes, I still think about her. It’s that simple.” He watched my hysteria with a chilling calm before adding, “Chloe, we’re married now. You don’t need to be obsessed with my past.” The irony was a bitter pill. “And what if she came back now?” I shot back, my voice trembling. “If she asked you to be her exclusive photographer again, would you go?” He didn’t answer. Instead, his hand moved to my shoulder, trying to pull me into an embrace. I slapped his hand away, my eyes locked on his, demanding an answer. Leo sighed. “Come on. Don’t work yourself up like this. Let’s just go to sleep.” His composure was infuriating. It painted me as the hysterical, irrational wife. Tears welled, blurring his face. “Would you go, or not?” I insisted, my voice thick. According to the comment section, Ava Sinclair had just returned to the States and opened her own studio. She was looking for a skilled, dedicated photographer. The old fans were in a frenzy, convinced this was the grand reunion, completely unconcerned about the feelings of his legal wife. Leo’s jaw tightened. “No, I wouldn’t go. Okay?” As if on cue, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. The caller ID glowed in the dark room: a single, shining letter. A. Without a second thought, Leo grabbed the phone and started to walk out of the room. I lunged, clutching the hem of his shirt. A tear splashed onto the fabric, darkening a small circle. “Answer it here.” We were locked in a standoff. The ringing weakened, and perhaps fearing he would miss the call, Leo actually answered it, right there in front of me. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “Ava.” He said her name with a deep, lingering tenderness that twisted a knife in my gut. A soft, gentle voice replied from the speaker. “It’s me.” I felt Leo’s entire body go rigid, so still that he forgot to pull his shirt from my grasp. Ava’s voice was laced with a hint of melancholy. “I’m so sorry to bother you this late. But… I didn’t know who else to call. The photographer for our studio is throwing a fit, and now he’s refusing to shoot the final runway show, let alone come back to the States with me. But the venue here is already booked, and we can’t postpone.” She paused. “I know this is a long shot, but… could you come and save me? Please, Leo. For old times’ sake.” 3 “What about your show over there? How will you manage?” The words flew out of Leo’s mouth before he could stop them. Both Ava and I were stunned into silence. I’d never seen him so impulsive, so reckless. Especially not for me. My own voice rose, sharp and high. “You’re going to fly overseas for her? Tomorrow is Christmas Eve! Our families are supposed to come over for dinner!” I had planned to announce the pregnancy then. Our parents had been asking for years. My mother-in-law would always get that wistful look whenever a friend mentioned their grandchildren. And Leo… Leo had wanted a child more than anything. In our most intimate moments, he would whisper against my ear, his voice thick with emotion, “Let’s have a baby, one that’s just as sweet as you. Please?” On the other end of the line, Ava’s voice suddenly caught. “Leo, is… is that a friend of yours?” “We’re married,” I cut in. A choked sound came from the phone. Leo frowned at me, his voice firm. “It’s just taking pictures, Chloe.” Right. It was just taking pictures. Then why was it an absolute “no” when I asked, but the second she called, he was ready to book a flight to another continent? The air crackled with unspoken things. Ava was the first to break the silence. “Forget it, Leo. It’s okay.” “Wait,” he said, a rush of panic in his voice. He covered the phone’s microphone with his hand and pried my fingers from his shirt. His voice was cold. “Can you just stop this?” “She’s all alone in a foreign country. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get to where she is? I’m helping a friend. What is wrong with that?” I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. But it hasn’t been easy for me, either… This was supposed to be the year I finally broke a million subscribers. But the morning sickness has been relentless. My video output has slowed to a crawl, my livestream numbers are dropping, and my brand partners are getting nervous, even threatening to terminate our contract. The Christmas campaign was a lifeline, a huge opportunity a friend had fought to get for me. But the photographer I’d booked bailed, saying my morning sickness was “disgusting” and he couldn’t work with me. I’m not some naturally gifted prodigy. I got here through sleepless nights writing scripts and endless hours practicing in front of a mirror. Now, because of this pregnancy, I might lose everything I’ve built. And even with all that, I never for a second regretted carrying his child. There was too much to say, too much hurt welling up inside me. The moment I tried to speak, tears started streaming down my face. Leo was already grabbing his camera bag, packing in a frantic hurry. Seeing me cry, he paused. For a moment, I thought he would come to me, hold me, or at the very least, offer some hollow words of comfort, like he always did. But all he said was a flat, dismissive, “Drink some water when you’re done crying. I’m leaving.” My nails dug into my palms. “Are you really going?” I asked, my voice raw. “No regrets?” Leo looked at me, a long, hard stare. Finally, he looked away. “Get some sleep.” The heavy thud of the front door echoed through the house, leaving me completely alone in the cavernous silence. My hand instinctively went to my stomach. For a long, long time, I just stood there, crying. Then, I picked up my phone and dialed a number. “Hello, I’d like to schedule a consultation for a… for a painless abortion.” 4 My voice must have been choked with tears, because the young woman who answered the phone sounded startled. “Ma’am? Are you okay? Please, just take a deep breath. Don’t do anything rash.” “Is there something wrong? I can just listen, if you want to talk.” I couldn’t hold it in anymore. A wrenching sob tore through me. A complete stranger on the phone was showing me more compassion than my own husband, the man who slept beside me every night, who had looked right at my pain and chose to walk away. Almost as a form of self-torture, I spent the rest of the night digging up old behind-the-scenes clips of him and Ava. There was Leo, blushing when Ava glanced his way while posing. There he was, frustrated with himself for not capturing her at the perfect angle. And there he was in an interview, boldly declaring that she was the most beautiful woman he would ever capture through his lens. In our relationship, he had always been the stable one, the calm one. His emotional steadiness gave me a profound sense of security. So when he was occasionally distant or cold, I just chalked it up to his personality. It wasn't his personality at all. It was just that he’d already given all his fire, all his passion, all of his grand, romantic gestures to someone else. And he was still ready to fight her battles. I watched until dawn, tears tracking paths down my cheeks. As the first light hit my window, I hardened my heart and forced myself to make a decision. I was at the clinic by eight a.m., clutching my appointment confirmation. The waiting room of the OB/GYN clinic was already packed. I saw so many couples, waiting together for their appointments, their faces glowing with happiness. One pregnant woman grimaced, her face pale. Her husband immediately started rubbing her back. “Are you feeling sick again? This is too much for you. We don’t have to do this, you know. We can just stop.” She gave him a weak, loving smile, and he melted. “I know, I know. You’re doing so great,” he cooed, his eyes filled with adoration. It must be nice. A pang of envy shot through me. My morning sickness had been terrible, but Leo had never really asked about it. He probably still didn’t even know I was pregnant. “Chloe Morgan?” a nurse called. “We’re ready for you.” My thoughts snapped back to the present. I stood and walked into the exam room. The doctor reviewed my chart, her brow furrowed. “Your health history indicates that it’s not easy for you to conceive. If you terminate this pregnancy, it could be very difficult to have a child in the future. I strongly recommend you discuss this further with your family.” I stared down at my hands, which were trembling uncontrollably. My phone screen lit up with a text from my mom. “Happy weekend, sweetie! What do you feel like for dinner tonight? You and Leo pick.” A second text followed. “We are so, so excited for your surprise!” I stared at the messages for a long time, the certainty I’d felt just moments ago beginning to crumble. I was about to tell the doctor I needed more time to think when my phone started ringing. It was Leo. 5 “My camera fell. It’s broken,” he said, his voice a frantic rush. “You need to bring yours. Now. Book the earliest flight you can, the event starts in a few hours.” The words hit me like a barrage of stones, leaving me stunned and confused. Ava’s camera broke. What did that have to do with me? “If the camera’s broken, just buy a new one,” I said, frowning. “You could be at a pro shop choosing a new one in the time it would take me to get to the airport.” Before I could finish, Ava’s tearful voice broke in on the line. “We can’t! They don’t have lenses this good here. The photos won’t be the same.” It clicked into place instantly. My camera. The anniversary gift from Leo. It had a custom-made lens—one of only a handful in the world, he’d told me. I remembered the night he gave it to me. When I opened the box, I’d actually stumbled back, insisting it was too expensive, that my skill level didn’t deserve such incredible equipment. But Leo had pressed it into my hands, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “What are you talking about? You’re amazing. You deserve the best of everything in the world.” An identical lens. Which meant he had given one to Ava, too. I tilted my head back, trying to keep the fresh wave of tears from falling. “I can’t. I have something here I can’t get out of.” Ava started to say something else, but Leo cut her off, his voice now sharp with irritation as he took the phone back. “What’s the big deal? Just let Ava use the camera. Your little videos aren’t good enough for a camera like that anyway! And what else do you have going on? That influencer stuff isn’t even a real job. What could you possibly have that you can’t get out of?” His casual, cruel dismissal of my life’s work sucked all the fight out of me. Just before the sob broke through, I let out a small, quiet laugh. “I’m about to go into surgery,” I said softly. “So, yeah. I really can’t get away.” I ended the call, my fingers gripping the phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. I looked at the doctor, my voice steady now. “We don’t need to discuss it anymore.” “What’s the earliest you can do the procedure?” Everything moved quickly after that. As the IV needle slid into my arm, the sky outside was just beginning to bruise with dusk. The television in the recovery room was broadcasting Ava’s final international runway show. Members of her team were telling the reporters a gushing, romanticized story of her bond with her "prodigal photographer." Two nurses were chattering excitedly nearby. “It’s so romantic,” one of them sighed. “After all this time, they found their way back to each other.” I looked up at the screen. The camera was doing a close-up on Leo as he shot Ava on the runway. The lights converged on them, and for a split second, their eyes met. It was a look of profound, undeniable connection. Love. The crowd roared, the nurses behind me squealed, and my social media feeds were exploding with a single refrain: I’m shipping this so hard. It was Christmas Eve. It was supposed to be a happy, noisy celebration. The anesthetic began its work, a cold spread through my veins. Amid the sound of a thousand celebrations, I was completely alone as I said goodbye to the tiny life inside me. At that exact moment, Leo was finishing his shoot. He and Ava were standing together, taking questions from the press. They looked like a bride and groom at their wedding reception. “Mr. Dawson, it’s so moving that you came all this way. Could you comment on the current nature of your relationship?” “The rumor is that you two are back together. Is that true?” Leo gave a small shake of his head. “No, that’s not true. I’m married.” The smile on Ava’s face faltered for a fraction of a second before she recovered beautifully. “We’re just friends! And his wife is amazing, a huge influencer! I was so touched he would leave his family right before the holiday to come help me. I really didn’t expect it.” Her words were just ambiguous enough for a sharp reporter to seize upon. He pushed his microphone towards Leo. “Mr. Dawson, is there tension in your marriage? There’s currently a trending story that your wife was seen at a clinic today… alone… having an abortion.” At the mention of the word, Leo’s entire body went rigid.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "386365", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel