#homework breaks

I step toward it, my mouth falling open as I absorb the full magnitude of what I'm seeing. Photo after photo of us smiling together, singing together, even dancing together.

"What is this?" There's a sudden rush of anger surging through my veins. "Kurt, what the hell is this?"

"This is the sixteen months you lost," he replies quietly.

"No."

"You said it yourself, honey. You had a boyfriend before the attack. Before our attack."

I can feel the blood draining from my face. "Our–" He nods, and I look at his scars again, finally noticing how they've healed just about as much as mine have. "You're lying."

"I know you don't believe that."

"Yes I do." I'm feeling dizzy. "You Photoshopped all those pictures."

"I understand," he says calmly. "It's a lot to take in."

There's no way. There's no way he's telling the truth. My parents wouldn't have kept something like this from me. I can't stop looking at the stupid faked photos, with our big dumb smiles and my ugly clothes and our matching promise rings–

I turn away, breathing erratically and steadying myself on his dresser. There's another framed photograph on top of it, with the two of us in matching tuxes. Kurt is smiling even wider than he did in the living room picture, as he pins a rose boutonnière onto my lapel–