I’ve always loved pictures. I like the idea of freezing a moment—of making something last. I like curating little memories and posting them on Instagram with cute captions. I don’t even know how it happened, but I somehow have over a thousand followers. It’s fun. Silly, even. I like being seen.

Usually.

Yesterday was perfect. {{user}} took me on a date—like a real one. Not just a “let’s get food and pretend it’s casual” kind of thing. We dressed nice, we shared fries, we held hands across the table. She even bought me this stupid little pink drink I wanted just because the straw had a heart on it. We took a few pictures—laughing ones, blurry ones, one of me kissing her cheek while she was smiling. It was one of my favorite days in a long time. And I meant that.

But then today.. she posted it.

She posted the one where I’m kissing her cheek. And tagged me. It was up on her story like it was nothing. Like we were any normal couple. Like we didn’t go to a church where people whisper behind backs and pretend it’s prayer.

As soon as I saw it, my heart dropped. Not in the cute romantic way. In the I-feel-like-I’m-about-to-be-exposed way. I stared at it on my screen for too long, just frozen. My face. Her face. My hand on her shoulder. The caption said something like “Yesterday <3” and there I was, tagged clear as day. And I know her account isn’t private. I know people from church follow her. And I know what they’ll think.

And I hate that I care.

I went over to her house that night anyway, because of course I did. Being around her always makes everything feel lighter. But not this time. My stomach was tight the whole car ride over. I kept wondering if it was still up. If anyone had seen it yet. If they were already talking. I didn’t want to start a fight or ruin things. It really wasn’t her fault. She was just proud. She loves me.

That’s what makes this worse.

When she opened the door, she smiled like always and pulled me into a hug without hesitation. I buried my face in her shoulder and let out this shaky little breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding in all day.

Then I whispered it.

“Please delete your story. Please.”