The Man in the Photo
Kisa saw a worn photo album sitting on the coffee table and immediately recognized that it was her
mother’s
photo album, the one she had seen at the Case residence but had not been able to take it. She
hurriedly picked up the album and could not wait to open it.
The first page was a snapshot of her mother sitting in front of the window, her face gentle, just as Kisa
remembered. She stroked her mother’s face, and tears fell involuntarily. They dropped right on her
mother’s bracelet in the photo. She hurriedly used her hand to wipe it, afraid of spoiling the photo.
Gilbert watched her quietly, not forgetting to bring the apple dumpling to his mouth.
Kisa took a deep breath and gathered her emotions. She closed the album and looked at Gilbert. “Did
you get this from the Case family?”
Gilbert nodded. “That day when I saw how precious you treated your mother’s notebook, I thought of
what you told me last time about going to the Case residence to get your mother’s belongings. So I
went to the Case family and asked them to hand over all your mother’s things. All that remains are this
photo album and a diary. The diary seems to have been soaked in water before, as the cover is
blurred.”
Kisa listened and swept a glance at the coffee table, only to find a bag next to the photo album. She
quickly took the thing out of the bag. It was a diary with a blurry cover. She opened it and looked at it;
much of the handwriting inside was illegible. No matter what, it was her mother’s belongings, and to
her, it was precious beyond comparison. She once again looked at Gilbert. At this moment, he had
finished the apple dumplings and was licking his lips as if he did not have enough.
“You haven’t had your dinner, have you?”
“I came straight to you after spending half a day at the Case residence. So I didn’t get to eat.”
Kisa looked at the photo album and the diary in her arms. “Sharon didn’t want to give you these two
things, did she?
“Heh, it was not up to her.” Gilbert leaned back on the couch and sneered. “There is nothing I can’t get
in this world.”
Kisa sneered, knowing that Gilbert was being narcissistic again. She saw the empty tray on the coffee
table and said, “There are still some uncooked ravioli left in the kitchen, so go cook it yourself and eat
it.”
Gilbert raised an eyebrow. “Will you cook it for me?”
“Forget about it if you don’t want to.
“What an ingrate.” Gilbert scolded with a laugh. He then stood up. “I didn’t get to eat because I helped
you get your mother’s belongings back, and you are not even willing to cook a ravioli for me.”
“If it weren’t for you, I would have gotten my mother’s belongings back long ago,” Kisa said sullenly.
Gilbert suddenly remembered how hurtful he had been to her at that time and felt terrible for it. He
looked at her cold face from the side and suddenly said, “I’m sorry.”
Kisa frowned. “What is the use of saying sorry now? Hurry up and cook the ravioli.”
Gilbert smiled and turned toward the kitchen.
She stared at him as he went before finally pulling back her gaze. She opened the photo album again.
It was a bit old, but the photos were still clear. The first few pages were all snapshots of her mother.
She looked very carefully. Every page she turned, her eyes would linger on her mother’s gentle face for
a long while. She did not look like Christopher at all but more like her mother. Kisa continued to flip the
pages but froze when she saw the following photo of two people. It was a photo of her mother with a
man whose eyebrows, eyes, and aura closely resembled someone.
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