Gemotions

The photograph of her father, young and smiling, arms wrapped around a woman with fiery red hair, was a direct contradiction to everything Maria had ever believed. Her mother’s stories, the ones she had grown up with, had painted her father as a devoted husband, a man who adored only her mother.

Maria felt a cold wave wash over her. It was as if someone had pulled the rug out from under her feet. Her hands trembled as she looked at the other photos. They showed him in different places, with different women. She felt betrayed.

She sat heavily on the floor, the albums scattered around her. Everything felt skewed, distorted. The past, once a steady landscape, had become a shifting panorama. Tears welled in her eyes.