He Erased Me From The Photo I Erased Him From My Life Chapter 15
Life in Denver gradually found its rhythm.
One morning, while waiting for a latte, I noticed a city mug on the coffee shop shelf printed with the Chicago skyline.
I paused for a second, then reached for the one next to it, the one with the Rocky Mountains.
It was only after I stepped back outside that I realized I had gone almost a month without thinking about Owen.
Not because I was actively trying not to.
Those people, those memories—they were simply getting farther and farther away.
After my probationary period ended, I used my savings to rent an apartment with a balcony. The lease had only my name on it. The deposit came from my bank account. Even the direction the balcony faced was my choice alone.
The first thing I did after moving in was change the lock.
I bought a smart lock and spent an hour crouched by the door with the instruction manual, removing the old hardware, rewiring the new plate, and tightening the screws. When the locksmith came to check my work, he handed me three spare keys.
I pressed my thumb to the sensor.
“Fingerprint registered successfully.”
The crisp electronic voice was followed by the satisfying click of the deadbolt sliding open.
I shut the door and tried it again.
And again.
The three new keys felt heavy in my palm. As I turned them over, I suddenly thought of that “family photo” from the picnic.
Back then, I had been standing outside the frame, holding the camera, unable to find a way into my own future.
Now, I was standing at the door to my own home.
And I held the key.