Page 2 of Boards & Betrayal

Carl stepped forward, all smiles and enthusiasm. “Jamie, this is Ally, our photographer. She’s got an amazing eye.”

Jamie, the influencer, turned to me with a wide smile, her perfectly styled hair bouncing slightly as she moved. “Nice to meet you, Ally,” she said, extending a hand.

I took her hand and shook it lightly. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“And this,” Jamie said, turning her gaze downwards, “is my little bundle of joy.” She cradled a tiny baby in her arms, wrapped in a soft white blanket.

My breath caught in my throat as I looked at the newborn. He had the most delicate features—tiny fingers peeking out from under the blanket, rosy cheeks, and eyes that fluttered open for just a moment before closing again. My heart twisted painfully in my chest.

“He’s beautiful,” I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. Part of me wanted to reach out and touch his tiny hand, while another part of me wanted to turn and run as far away as possible. The ache in my chest grew sharper with each passing second.

Carl clapped his hands together, breaking the tension that only I seemed to feel. “All right, Ally, this is a newborn session. Can you help get everything set up?”

I nodded mechanically, my body moving before my mind could catch up. “Of course,” I replied, stepping towards the setup area.

As I adjusted the lights and repositioned the props, my hands shook slightly. I tried to focus on the task at hand—making sure everything was perfect for Jamie and her baby—but my thoughts kept drifting back to memories I wished I could forget.

I placed the pastel-colored blocks carefully around the wooden crate and spread out the soft blankets just so. The baby clothes felt heavier than before as I draped them over the props. Each movement felt like an eternity.

Jamie watched me with curiosity. “You’ve done this before, right?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I replied, forcing a smile. “Plenty of times.”

She seemed satisfied with that answer and turned her attention back to her baby, cooing softly to him.

Carl hovered nearby, checking his watch again. “Everything looks great,” he said. “Let’s get started.”

I took a deep breath and positioned myself behind the camera. This was my job; I could do this. As long as I focused on the lens and not on the ache in my heart or the tightness in my chest that made it hard to breathe.

The camera clicked softly as I began taking photos of Jamie and her newborn. The studio lights bathed them in a gentle glow, capturing each tender moment between mother and child.

I adjusted the lens, my fingers trembling slightly. Each click of the shutter felt like a jolt to my system, reverberating through my bones. Jamie’s soft murmurs to her baby faded into the background as memories from November surged forward, unbidden and relentless.

I remembered the sterile smell of the clinic, the cold, hard chair I sat in while waiting for news that I already knew deep down. My hands had clutched my belly, trying to hold onto something that was slipping away. The doctor's face had been a mask of practiced sympathy when she delivered the news—news that shattered me into pieces I still hadn’t been able to put back together.

My heart pounded as I forced myself to focus on the present. Jamie’s baby cooed softly, and she looked at him with a mixture of love and exhaustion. I had imagined looking at my own child that way, feeling that overwhelming surge of emotion. Instead, there was only emptiness.

Bitterness.

What could have been.

The flashback intensified, dragging me deeper into that November night when I had called Thomas’s name in my mind, but never aloud. He never knew; he never would. Not after what happened at the Masquerade between him and Nick. The secret weighed heavy on me, pressing down with a force that made it hard to breathe.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. I couldn’t let these emotions surface here—not now. Not with Carl watching my every move and Jamie’s eyes were full of hopeful expectation. This wasn’t about me; this was about capturing a moment for someone else.

“Ally?” Jamie’s voice broke through the fog. “Is everything okay?”

I nodded quickly, plastering on a smile that felt brittle. “Yes, everything’s perfect.”

She smiled back, reassured, and turned her attention back to her baby. I adjusted the lighting one last time and continued shooting, each click of the camera grounding me back in reality.

The memories continued to claw at the edges of my mind, but I pushed them down with every ounce of strength I had left. The loss was still there—raw and aching—but it didn’t belong here in this room filled with new life and hope.

I captured Jamie cradling her son gently, his tiny fingers wrapping around hers. The tenderness in her eyes was palpable, and for a moment, I allowed myself to get lost in that image instead of my own pain.

The camera clicked again and again as I framed each shot perfectly, focusing on the details—the softness of the blanket, the way Jamie’s hair framed her face like a halo, the peaceful expression on her baby’s face.

Each picture was a reminder of what could have been but also a testament to what still existed—a world where beauty and pain coexisted in fragile balance.

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