Chapter 4
Mia sat in her bedroom the next morning, in her pyjamas with her hair tied in a knot on top of her head. It was time.
She’d put this off for so long, but it was like she’d left one final piece of the puzzle out, and it was time to put it in place.
The shoebox was nothing special—it was all she’d been able to find at the time—and she couldn’t even remember some of the things she’d put inside.
It had never felt like the right time to look, and by the time she was feeling almost brave enough, she’d convinced herself that it might derail her if she took a trip down memory lane. But today, she was ready.
First, Mia took out the photo on the top. They were both smiling, arms wrapped around each other as someone she couldn’t remember snapped the shot. There were more, too; photos of them from places around the world, selfies of them kissing and laughing and smiling.
A tear slid down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away with her fingertip.
There was nothing easy about looking at photos of Ethan, even after all this time.
If she closed her eyes, she could still remember the warmth of his hand when it closed over her knee, hear the deep timbre of his laugh.
He’d been the kind of man that people were drawn to, someone who’d always had time for anyone.
Her engagement ring was in there, tied to a soft pink ribbon, and she slipped it onto her finger before deciding it was a bad idea and placing it back in the box.
But it was Ethan’s notebook that she found the hardest to look at—she’d taken it with her after he’d passed, after finding it on the bedside table in their hotel room.
When she cracked it open, she saw his familiar scrawl, and it broke something in her heart all over again, despite the time that had passed.
But as much as the tears prickled, she refused to let them fall. Today was about new beginnings, and she had no intention of faltering at the starting gate, so she took a deep breath and put everything away, before sliding the lid back on the box.
It was a start. That’s what she was going to tell herself. It was a start, and at least she’d taken a look and begun the process. She didn’t have to look at everything all at once, but she was proud of herself for looking at something.
Mia rose and placed the box back in her wardrobe, before slowly reaching for the worn black bag.
She took a deep breath and pulled it out, taking it to the bed with her and carefully taking out her camera.
This camera was my life. An extension of my arm.
The weight felt foreign but at the same time comforting, and she turned it over in her hands, closing her eyes this time as the tears were suddenly harder to hold back.
This time they clogged her throat and made it difficult to breathe.
She hadn’t held her camera since Ethan had passed.
Every time she’d thought about it, something had held her back, until she’d completely lost her way with her career and her passion—everything about life as she knew it had been taken from her in one fell swoop.
But today she’d made a decision—it was time to pick up the pieces of her life again, little by little.
She would never forget Ethan, he’d been the love of her life, but she had to start living again, truly living.
It was what he would have wanted—she knew that without a shadow of doubt—and if she was honest, it was what she wanted, too.
Being with Charlotte and Georgia, hearing their stories of how brave they’d been to travel and go on adventures and find their person out there in the world, had made her realise that she wanted that.
She wanted the type of big, full lives they were living, and she was starting to realise that she deserved it just as much as they did.
She’d had that life once, before she’d reduced her world to a smaller and smaller place since Ethan’s passing, but she wanted it back. She was ready to claim it back again.
She’d always thought that she’d already had her great love, that there was nothing else, no one else, out there waiting for her. But what if she’d been wrong? What if her fears were holding her back from leading the life she was supposed to have?
Mia placed the camera in her lap and took a deep breath, still holding on to it, letting her fingers find the still-familiar grooves. She wasn’t going to hide it anymore. Even if she didn’t take a photo, just getting it out and seeing it was a step forward. Or at least, it felt like one.
This is the first step to taking back my life. If ever there was a time to be brave, it’s now.