EIGHTEEN

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Photos never tell the full story; they're a simple snapshot of a lie. The three photos I've tentatively chosen feel wrong: one on our wedding day where we're both smiling, with my tiny little bump that's only slightly hidden by my dress. The other one is a selfie I had developed of us at Hampton Court Palace. We're both grinning like idiots, the sun is shining over us, and it looks like we're a normal, happy couple. The third photo is one we took before we told my parents we were expecting Gabriel. It's the only near-natural photo we have. We're on the beach, and I remember someone walking past and offering to take our photo as we were trying to take selfies. I'm cuddled under Joel's arm as he kisses my temple.

The full story of this photo is that we were nearly happy, but we had a ticking time bomb in my stomach and we both knew it, so we were relishing what we could, trying to fall in love. Trying to pretend Gabriel wasn't growing.

It has undertones of sadness, and a rocky foundation that could break at any moment, but then what photo of us doesn't? That's all we ever have been; hence our song has always been All We Are.

The problem Joel and I have always had is that we've allowed ourselves to be defined by Gabriel, and while parents sometimes do that, we shouldn't have allowed ourselves to do that because we gave him up. We chosethat path, whether or not I had all the information, the decision was still made. We spoke about it so many times and stayed awake so many nights to discuss it for the umpteenth time to make sure we were doing the right thing.

I didn't regret it because I did what was best for Gabriel. I regret it for me because I've missed him every single day since he was born.

Joel admitted he thinks about him all the time, but I don't know if he regrets the decision or not. I will always wonder if he does because I think he'd be too proud to admit it if he did.

I found a few photos on social media of his friends at work – mainly his boss Elliot and Summer – but I don't think he'd appreciate those as they're photos of him drunk. That'd be more taunting than anything.

The washing machine pings to say it's finished, so once I put the photos in my bag, I pad into the empty kitchen and unload his clothes and mine, putting them into the dryer.

I put my music on from my phone just for something to listen to. Usually, Joel and I would be having a conversation about our days, the show we'd be binging on TV or some game he's playing at the moment. Sometimes he'd try to convince me to join a new club he's seen advertised.

Even listening to him moan at me about that would be amazing right now. Just listening to his taunts about my mum or stupid jokes would be better than music right now. I've never thought I needed anyone, because I had Joel, and he's never judged me despite what we've been through.

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