After the collapse of Niamh's company, even her white BMW 3 Series had to be pawned. Now, she was left with nothing—flat broke, not a penny or asset to her name.
Even the most recent dividend from FY, she had wired straight to Elmer’s mother.
As she walked across the Harbourview Skybridge, the salty wind off the bay whipped around her, leaving her mind startlingly clear.
Niamh pulled out her phone and opened a password-protected private album.
There was only one photo inside.
It was a picture of her and Jonathan together.
She’d snapped it in secret back at the Juvenile Rehabilitation Center, during one of those rare moments when they were allowed their phones. She wasn’t sure if Jonathan ever realized she was taking the photo; maybe he hadn’t noticed, or maybe he did but pretended not to.
At Aldenville Juvenile Rehabilitation Center, the place was run like half-school, half-prison, and on rare occasions, they got brief access to their phones.
Niamh had been so grateful to capture even a single photo with Jonathan back then.
She was pretty sure she’d fallen for him first.
Those first, dizzy feelings of young love—how could anyone resist Jonathan’s charm?
Later, she was convinced Jonathan genuinely cared about her too. Otherwise, he never would have promised her he’d never forget her, that they’d always be together.
For teenagers, those grand declarations—promises of forever—are almost irresistible.
Niamh had fallen, utterly and completely.
No matter how many times she changed phones over the years, she guarded that photo like a treasure, keeping it safe, as if it were a snapshot of her entire youth—a testament to her most sincere and passionate love.
Niamh stared at the photo on her screen for a long, long time.
Then, with a steady hand, she deleted it.
The picture was gone, and so was the secret album she’d created just for it.
Now, for the first time, there were no more secrets on Niamh’s phone.
Nothing holding her back.
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