Stephen
The thing about truth is that it doesn’t explode all at once.
It creeps.
Little details sliding into place like a puzzle you didn’t realise you were solving.
And once you see the picture…
You can’t unsee it.
I’m sitting in my office staring at my laptop when the old photos finally load.
Rebecca Snow.My ex-fiancée
Two years ago.
Before the surgeries.
Before whatever the hell she turned herself into.
The girl in the photos looks… different.
Rounder face.
Softer jaw.
Thicker body.
But the eyes?
Same.
Exactly the same.
Brown.
Sharp.
Watching the camera like she doesn’t fully trust it.
My stomach twists.
“No way,” I mutter.
I drag the new photo of Becca onto the screen beside it.
Side by side.
Same eyes.
Same small scar near the eyebrow.
Holy s**t.
A slow lau
