Chapter 15 Let Me Eat You
It was an album.
Photographs.
Of him.
Alexander shifted his grip, now holding the album with both hands as he opened it properly.
The first photograph looked like it had been taken from a table display or a webpage.
Some were clearly press photos—clean, sharp, familiar.
Others were candid—captured from screens, newspapers, websites, moments frozen without his awareness.
Page after page.
His image stared back at him.
Under the first photo, written neatly in familiar handwriting, was a short note:
‘I met Mr. Graves today. He looks like a really nice man. He asked me to stay at his home. I hope I can return his favor one day and repay him for his kindness.’
Alexander’s fingers tightened around the album.
His chest felt strangely tight, as if something invisible had wrapped around his heart and begun to squeeze. As he reread the words, his heart sank further.
He turned the page.
Another photograph of himself appeared—more candid this time, taken just a few days after Mia had moved into his house.
Beneath it, in her familiar handwriting:
‘I agreed to marry Mr. Graves.’
His breath stalled in his chest.
Alexander flipped the page again.
This time, the photograph showed him in the black suit Mia had personally chosen for him. Beside it was another picture—several velvet boxes laid out neatly, each holding a wedding ring he had bought for her.
Underneath, she had written:
‘So many wedding rings? I’ll wear them all, and look like a queen.’
The corner of Alexander’s lips curled unconsciously, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. But then his gaze dropped to the line written beneath it—and his smile widened even more.
There were countless photographs of him, taken on random days during the time she had lived in his house. Some were blurry. Some were taken from afar. Some were clearly snapped when he wasn’t looking.
Beneath each photo were small notes—simple, warm words.
There were even pictures of Anita and Allen, playful comments scribbled beneath them.
One photo of Anita looked like it had been taken on impulse in the hallway. She stood with her arms crossed, posture rigid, chin lifted, her expression sharp and unimpressed—caught in the middle of what was clearly a lecture waiting to happen.
The caption underneath read, “Final boss of this house. Do not argue.”
Another showed her in the kitchen, sunlight spilling through the window, a ladle frozen mid-air as she turned toward the camera, eyes narrowed in warning.
It was the exact look she gave when someone dared step in before tasting the food.
Beneath it, Mia had written, “Scarier than Mr. Graves before coffee.”
On another page, one photo caught Allen mid-stride, phone pressed to his ear, jacket hanging off one arm, his tie loosened just enough to suggest it had been a very long day. His brows were drawn tight, attention split between whoever was speaking and whatever problem he was already solving.
Underneath was scrawled, “Always stressed. Still alive. Impressive.”
Another showed him near the gate, coffee cup clutched like a lifeline, dark circles faint but unmistakable beneath his eyes. He looked tired, alert, and permanently on duty. The note below read, “Powered by caffeine and fear of Mr. Graves.”
Alexander huffed out a quiet laugh before he could stop himself, shaking his head slightly as a disbelieving smile tugged at his mouth. He hadn’t realized—until now—how much of the house she had noticed.
Then he flipped another page—
And froze.
Several pages in the middle of the album had been torn out.
Alexander stared at the jagged edges, his chest tightening painfully. He wondered what she had written there. What memories she had ripped away.
Slowly, he turned to the next intact page.
The photograph showed the street where he had parked his car—the day Mia left his house and went to Sawyer’s place instead. The day she discovered that he had hidden the truth about knowing her before their marriage.
Underneath, she had written:
‘This hurt so much. The most painful feeling after Mom and Dad’s death. Maybe he doesn’t even really like me.’
Alexander’s heart dropped straight into his stomach.
A suffocating, haunting weight wrapped around his chest, refusing to loosen its grip. The pain was immediate, crushing. It stole the air from his lungs.
It was clear now.
Their separation had hurt her far more than she had ever shown.
Each page that followed held fragments of her thoughts from those days—confusion, pain, fear, heartbreak laid bare in ink.
He turned to another page.
A photograph of his house—taken from the outside.
Beneath it:
‘I feel scared. I don’t want to step inside this house ever again. It hurts to think that I may never go back into the house I thought was my home now.’
His fingers clenched tightly around the album, his knuckles whitening.
His heart raced as panic seeped into his veins. He flipped the pages faster now, urgency driving his movements. Every note that followed was raw, honest, broken—her emotions bleeding through every word.
He turned another page and stopped again.
Another photograph—
the same street where he had picked her up on a snowy night and brought her to his home.
Beneath it, only three words:
‘The end again?’
Alexander’s grip faltered.
The weight in his chest grew unbearable, pressing down until his fingers loosened. The album slipped from his hands, nearly crashing to the floor before instinct kicked in. He caught it at the last second, clutching it tightly against his chest as if letting go would shatter something inside him.
The sudden movement caused the album to flip open.
Straight to the very last page—hidden behind several blank ones.
There was only one photograph.
It was of him.
A photo he hadn’t even realized she had taken—back when they were still living together.
He was asleep, his head resting on her lap, completely unguarded. One hand lay loosely against her thigh, fingers relaxed. Mia had taken a selfie with him in the frame, capturing a moment he had never been aware of.
Mia’s face was only partially in the frame, her expression soft. A quiet, intimate moment frozen in time.
Underneath, written carefully in neat handwriting, were the words:
‘I think I’m in love with Alexander.’
Alexander went completely still.
The world around him seemed to pause.
His hand trembled, the album shaking slightly between his fingers. There was no feeling he had ever experienced in his life that compared to this one. It was overwhelming—crushing and breathtaking all at once—filling his chest until it hurt.
His stupor broke when he heard Mia’s voice drifting in from inside the house.
“I really don’t need it, Ellie. Keep it. I have so many things already. What am I going to do with all this?”
“Just take it,” Ellie insisted. “Trust me. You can wear it anytime. Wear it when you come to see me next time.”
The soft sound of fabric rustling followed, the quiet shuffle of movement nearby.
Alexander slid the album back into the bag and turned away, his movements quick and controlled. His heart was still racing uncontrollably, pounding hard against his ribs as he struggled to steady his breathing.
His chest burned, aching so fiercely it felt difficult to draw a full breath.
He stood there with his back to them, shoulders tense, jaw tight—forcing himself to regain control.
Mia and Ellie stepped down the stairs, coming to stand near Alexander.
“Wait,” Ellie said suddenly. “I forgot something. I have a really beautiful bangle—it’ll look great on you.”
“Ellie, I don’t need it,” Mia called after her, but Ellie had already darted upstairs toward her bedroom, her footsteps fading quickly until she disappeared from sight.
The moment they were alone, Alexander reached out and grabbed Mia’s hand.
Mia startled, her breath catching as he pulled her closer.
His heart was still racing wildly, echoing in his chest, and the faint heat of it pressed against her as he drew her in. His other hand slid to her waist, fingers brushing against the fabric of her dress.
His gaze locked onto hers—intense, searching.
He asked, his voice low and tight, eyes scanning her face with dangerous intensity, “Mia, did you fall in love with me?”
Mia’s body went rigid, shock flashing across her face. She stared at him as if she hadn’t heard him correctly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped, pushing hard against his chest. “Mr. Graves, let go of me.”
He didn’t.
“Answer me,” he said, his grip tightening just enough to keep her from pulling away.
“I am not—I don’t know what you’re saying,” Mia stammered, jerking her hands in a desperate attempt to free herself.
Alexander’s jaw clenched, anger and frustration flickering in his eyes. He stepped closer, the air between them taut with tension. Without another word, he slid his hand into the bag, pulled out the album, and flipped it open. His finger landed decisively on the last page, lifting it between them.
“Then what is this?” he demanded.
His voice lowered, rough but fragile underneath. He looked straight into her eyes.
“Just answer me,” he said quietly, intensely. “Did you fall in love with me?”
Mia’s breath hitched in a rush. Her eyes widened as they locked on the album. Her whole body stiffened, panic spreading through her limbs. In one swift motion, she snatched it from his hands.
The next second, she spun sharply and marched toward the dustbin near the bathroom. Without hesitation, she tossed the album inside.
“I told you it was nothing,” Mia snapped as she whirled back to face him, striding straight toward him. Her posture was rigid, shoulders squared, hands clenched at her sides.
Her gaze met his, unwavering yet defensive. “It was just a stupid, childish habit,” she continued coldly. “I’ll get rid of it so you don’t misunderstand anything in the future.”