The Wrong Woman

"Before high school, I grew up and went to school out on the frontier," Jasper said.

"So, which one are you in the middle school photos?" Imogen asked, carefully studying the few snapshots of several people.

"Check out the group photos. Besides those, there aren't any solo shots of us together," Jasper responded with a hint of disappointment.

Imogen froze, staring at Jasper in disbelief. Anxiety churned in her chest and a sense of impending dread swept over her. She swallowed hard, her voice slightly quivering as she asked, "Was it that I didn't want to take photos with you? Or did we just never get the chance?"

"It was that you didn't want to," Jasper replied.

Imogen fell silent, her heart pounding erratically. She was gripped tightly by a wave of panic. She had always been known for her approachability and friendliness, so turning down a schoolmate's invitation for a photo felt oddly out of character.

Unless... it was him!

Her breath caught as she cautiously asked, "Is your last name Morrison?"

Jasper nodded silently.

beat. She remembered the general at the military base who shared the same last name. Suddenly, memories of the only

before cautiously asking, "Did you ever write me any love letters back in middle

bitter smile. "Yeah, you tore them all up. There was even

coffee table and quickly retreated to her room, slamming the door with

her reaction, a deep sense of disappointment washing over him, mingled with bitter

way, treating their encounters as if she had seen

gathered the photographs. He felt waves of

the door of her room, her hand pressed to her chest. Her breath

more unsettling than any ghost story she'd heard. It shook her to the

he was the

as ordinary as Imogen even have the right to look upon him? And yet, she was thrust into marriage with a

she was

leaving her disoriented and unsettled.