SOMEONE ELSE’S SECOND LIFE !

The Photograph

I had never thought that a simple photograph could change a life.

Before that day, old photographs were nothing important to me.

Memories.

Faces that had grown older.

Moments that adults talked about with a smile, saying:

“You were so little back then.”

I would look at them sometimes.

I would smile.

Then I would move on.

But this photograph…

I didn’t know yet that it was going to be different.

It all started on a Saturday afternoon.

The house was strangely quiet.

Mom had gone out to buy a few things, and my father was working in his office. I was simply looking for something in the old closet in the hallway.

I didn’t even know what I was looking for.

Probably nothing important.

I just wanted to find an old box where I had kept a few childhood memories.

I pulled out the first box.

Nothing.

A second one.

Christmas decorations.

A third one.

Old notebooks.

Then a small cardboard box fell behind the others.

Boom.

I jumped.

— Great…

I bent down to pick it up.

It was covered in dust.

There was no name on the lid.

Just a small black mark, almost worn away.

I opened it.

Inside, there were several photographs.

Some were very old.

Birthdays.

Vacations.

Houses I didn’t recognize.

People I had never heard of.

I looked through them quickly.

Then I found a different photograph.

I held it between my fingers.

And I froze.

There was a little girl in the photo.

She looked about the same age I had been as a child.

She was standing in front of a house I didn’t recognize.

She was smiling.

But it wasn’t her smile that gave me that strange feeling.

It was her eyes.

I brought the photograph closer to my face.

No.

Impossible.

I looked again.

Then I ran to the hallway mirror.

I looked at my reflection.

Then at the photograph.

My reflection.

The photograph.

My heart began to beat faster.

The girl had the same eyes as me.

The same gaze.

The same smile.

Even that small mark near her hand that I had had all my life.

I turned the photograph over.

On the back, someone had written a date.

A date from several years before I was born.

I whispered:

— But… who are you?

I turned the photo back over.

The girl was still looking at me.

And for a few seconds, I had a feeling I couldn’t explain.

As if I knew that face.

As if a part of me remembered something my memory had forgotten.

Then I heard the front door open.

— Maya?

Mom’s voice.

I quickly put the other photographs back in the box.

But I kept that one in my hand.

Mom walked into the hallway with her bags.

— What are you doing?

I turned around.

— I found this box.

She smiled faintly.

— Oh… that old box. I thought it was in the attic.

Then her eyes fell on the photograph.

Her smile disappeared.

Completely.

She slowly set her bags down on the floor.

— Where did you find that?

Her voice had changed.

I looked at her, surprised.

— In the closet.

She stepped closer.

— Give me the photo.

I didn’t move.

— Why?

— Maya.

It wasn’t an answer.

It was almost a warning.

I looked at the photograph again.

Then at Mom.

— Who is this girl?

She remained silent.

For too long.

— Nobody.

I frowned.

— Nobody?

— An old acquaintance.

— What’s her name?

Mom looked away.

— It doesn’t matter.

I felt something tighten in my chest.

Because Mom never did that.

She could avoid a question.

She could change the subject.

But this time…

She was afraid.

I could see it.

— Mom…

She gently took the photograph from my hands.

— Forget this photo.

Then she left.

I remained alone in the hallway.

I stared at the door behind which she had disappeared.

And for the first time in my life, a thought crossed my mind.

My mother was hiding something from me.

I went back to my room.

I sat down on my bed.

And for several minutes, I did nothing.

I only thought about that girl.

Her face.

Her eyes.

That strange feeling of knowing her.

Then I took my phone.

I discreetly took a picture of the photo before putting it back in the box.

I didn’t know why yet.

Maybe because I had a feeling Mom was going to try to make it disappear.

I placed my phone on my bed.

Then I looked at the image.

One last time.

And that was when I noticed something I hadn’t seen before.

Behind the little girl…

There was someone.

A silhouette.

Almost hidden by the shadow of the house.

I zoomed in.

Again.

Then again.

And my heart almost stopped.

Because that person was holding something in their hand.

A bracelet.

The same bracelet I had been wearing since I was a child.

I whispered:

— No…

I looked up at the door.

And suddenly, I was certain of one thing.

This photograph wasn’t simply an old family picture.

It was the first piece of a story that someone had spent years trying to hide from me.

And I had just begun to uncover it.