She Hit Delete

On the third day of our graduation trip, my childhood friend finally pointed her camera at me.

But after just a few minutes of shooting, she frowned in frustration and let out a sharp sigh.

None of these are even usable.

A classmate standing nearby looked puzzled. Really? When you take photos of Tristan, even your random candid shots look like magazine covers.

My throat tightened, swallowing down a wave of bitterness.

Sylvia lowered her camera, her tone dismissive. Forget it. Let's stop. You're just not very photogenic, Ryan. No matter the angle, it always turns out the same.

With that, she reached out and grabbed a girl passing by who was carrying a professional DSLR. Hey, could you take a few shots of him? I'll pay you for your time.

Without waiting for an answer, Sylvia clutched her camera and ran off toward Tristan.

The moment her lens focused on him, her frown vanished, replaced by a radiant smile. Turn around and look down slightly. Yes, just like that. Perfect...

I stared at them, watching their effortless synergy. A memory flickered in my mind, a time long ago when I had asked her, How do you always make me look so good in your photos? She had laughed, gently fixing my hair. Because theres love behind the lens. When you love what you're looking at, every shot is beautiful.

So. She didn't love me anymore.

I pulled out my phone. Accessing the college application portal, I changed my final choice. I bypassed Northpoint, the college we had agreed to attend together, and selected Southport University instead, a campus a thousand miles away.

It took less than three minutes to rewrite my future. When I looked up, I realized the freelance photographer Sylvia had practically coerced into helping was still standing there.

I opened my mouth to apologize and tell her we could skip it, but she raised her camera first, her smile bright and open. Hey, do me a favor? I'm actually a beginner, and you fit this scenery perfectly. Let me use you as a model for some portfolio practice. No charge. If I don't get a masterpiece, I'll pay you a hundred bucks.

I blinked, caught off guard by her humor. After a brief hesitation, I nodded.

After all, I had actually dressed up today. And after all, I loved taking photos.

But we were already on day three of this trip, and Sylvia's camera was filled with rolling waves, glowing sunsets, and endless pictures of Tristans carefree laughter. There was nothing of me. I didn't even have a single decent photo to post on Instagram.

Once we started, the girl took her work incredibly seriously. She guided my poses and expressions with gentle patience, never once showing the kind of annoyance Sylvia had.

Before long, she wrapped up the shoot and turned the camera screen around to show me. To my surprise, almost every single photo was stunning.

I studied the images and said earnestly, Let me pay you. These are incredible. There was no way this was the work of a beginner.

She just laughed and waved it off. Honestly, I'm not a hire-by-the-hour photographer. Just call it a serendipitous meeting. Have a great trip!

After transferring the files to my phone, she turned and walked away along the shoreline.

Not far off, Sylvia and Tristan were still posing. Her shutter clicked rapidly as they shared a warm, private laugh across the distance.

I walked over, intending to tell the group I was heading back. But Tristan saw me first and spoke up. We're taking a boat to the island to shoot some more. You coming with us, Ryan?

I shook my head. I'm a bit tired. I think I'll head back to the hotel.

Only then did Sylvia look over, studying me for a moment. Are you pouting? Did that amateur photographer fail to get a good shot of you? Well, its to be expected. Youve always been difficult to shoot. Most people don't have the patience I do to find your angles.

Looking at this girl whom I had doted on for as long as I could remember, a sharp ache bloomed in my chest. I didn't understand. I couldn't comprehend why she had become so bitter and biting since Tristan entered our lives. The Sylvia who used to lift me up and praise me felt like she had died the exact moment Tristan transferred to our school.

Actually, no, I said, shaking my head. I love the photos she took. Theyre my favorite set of photos I've ever had taken.

Sylvias face hardened instantly, irritation flashing in her eyes. After a tense silence, she let out a dismissive scoff. Youre just throwing a tantrum because I didn't spend the day shooting you. Is it really necessary to say something so ridiculous just to spite me? What could a cheap street photographer possibly produce? Let's go, Tristan. She turned toward the dock.

But Tristan caught her hand, looking back at me with a disapproving frown. Ryan, Sylvia has taken so many beautiful photos of you over the years. Saying that is just hurtful. You should show a little gratitude.

Gratitude? For her shifting affections, or for the constant, quiet ways she degraded me?

Hearing Tristan speak up for her, Sylvia's anger softened slightly. Don't worry about it. Not everyone is as thoughtful and mature as you. She took Tristan's hand and led him away.

I stood there, watching their receding figures. A stray wave crashed against the rocks, spraying salty ocean water onto my lips. It tasted bitter, sharp, and cold.

That evening, I posted the photos from earlier on Instagram. Before long, a comment popped up from a classmate, one I hadn't seen in ages.

Wow, Sylvia took so many gorgeous pictures of you again! You're so lucky, Ryan!

I stared at the screen, momentarily dazed. It had been so long since anyone wrote that. In the past, even when we weren't traveling, Sylvia would constantly capture candid moments of my daily life around our neighborhood and school. I used to post those photos every few days, and everyone knew she was the eyes behind the lens.

But everything changed when Tristan transferred in during our senior year. I scrolled through my past posts. I hadn't updated my profile in over six months. I typed out a quick reply to the classmate: They weren't taken by Sylvia. A random passerby took them, and shes incredibly talented.

A few minutes later, Sylvia posted a grid of nine photos. Every single one was of Tristan. Our posts sat right next to each other on the feed, featuring almost the exact same ocean backdrop, as if locked in some silent competition. Her caption read:

Shoutout to our resident golden boy for modeling today. Had so much fun shooting!

Tristan quickly commented: Its all thanks to your skills, Sylvia. I had a blast too!

I stared at the screen for a long time, a quiet wave of nausea rising in my throat. Right before my phone went to sleep, I double-tapped to like her post. Let it be. From now on, I would no longer be a character in her frame.

The next morning, I ran into Sylvia near the hotel stairs. She was looking down at her phone, but as soon as she saw me, her brow furrowed. Do you have any idea how badly sunburned you got yesterday?

Before I could respond, she hurried past me out of the lobby. Ten minutes later, she returned carrying a small bag from the pharmacy, pulled out a tube of aloe vera gel, and shoved it into my hands. Her voice carried a mocking edge. I thought you said that photographer was so great. Why did she keep you out under the blistering sun until your neck started peeling?

I looked into her eyes. Despite her sharp words, the underlying worry reflected in them was exactly the same as it had always been. I sighed inwardly and stayed silent, unwilling to start an argument.

A second later, Tristan walked over. Man, what happened to you? Good thing Sylvia meticulously put sunscreen all over me yesterday. I didn't get burned at all.

My hand froze as I was squeezing the aloe vera tube. Seeing my hesitation, Sylvia quickly added, Tristan couldn't reach some spots on his back, so I just helped him out.

I remained silent for a few seconds. I pulled out my phone and opened Venmo. How much was the aloe? I'll transfer you the money.

Sylvias face fell. Ryan, what is your problem?

I didn't answer. Growing up together, we had never kept track of minor expenses; buying things for each other was second nature. But things were different now. I handed the tube back to her. If you won't let me pay you, I can't accept it.

Tristan adopted a guilty look. Ryan, look, Im sorry. Are you mad because of what I said? I really couldn't reach my own back, that's why I asked Sylvia.

Sylvia looked at me, her eyes filled with disappointment. Why have you been throwing these random fits the past couple of days? We're adults now. Can you please keep your emotions in check?

I tossed the aloe gel onto the lobby coffee table and let out a cold laugh. Thats easy. Let's just stop hanging out altogether.

Sylvias eyes widened. Ryan! You don't just throw things like that around!

And you don't just rub sunscreen all over another guy's back either, do you? I shot back.

Leaving her speechless, I grabbed my bag and walked out. I spent the rest of the day by myself, wandering through Marine Park.

When I returned to the hotel, I noticed a notification in our class group chat. Our homeroom teacher had posted a video along with a smiley face:

Here is the graduation commemorative video Sylvia made for us. Ive been so busy lately that I forgot to upload it. Make sure to download and save it as a keepsake, everyone!

After a brief hesitation, I clicked play. In the entire eight-minute video, my face appeared on screen for exactly one second during the roll call. Tristan, however, was everywhere. Tristan eating lunch, Tristan studying, Tristan running on the track...

By the time the video ended, I tossed my phone aside, lay back, and closed my eyes. The professional camera stabilizer Sylvia had used to shoot those clips was a birthday gift from me. I had worked two straight summers washing cars just to afford it. We had used it to record countless tiny daily moments together. Yet, in the final product, I was reduced to a mere extra.

Some classmates had already started teasing her in the chat:

Sylvia, do you have a crush on Tristan or something? Why is he in literally every frame?

Seriously, the rest of the class combined didn't get as much screen time as him.

Sylvia didn't respond.

But I already knew the answer. She was undoubtedly in love with him. The wounds I had tried to ignore, buried under her excuses and my own blind trust, began to throb with pain.

Back during our senior year photography competition, Sylvia and I had prepared meticulously, brainstorming ideas and scouting locations together. Despite the biting early winter chill, I had stood in summer clothes for two straight days just to fit her vision, coming down with a raging fever afterward. I had stayed up late every night after school editing those photos until my eyes were bloodshot. Yet, when she finally submitted her entry, it was a photo of Tristan, the transfer student, taken without my knowledge.

When I confronted her with the school newspaper showing the two of them pictured side-by-side, she had simply laughed it off. We already participated in the competition during our freshman and sophomore years, Ryan. Tristan just transferred here, and this is his only chance. Let him have this one. Don't be so petty.

That phrase, don't be so petty, effectively silenced all my grievances.

By the second semester, she had moved her desk right next to Tristan's, spending every spare minute tutoring him. She had explained it to me with absolute nonchalance: Tristan is an amazing model, and we might work together in the future. His grades aren't high enough to get into a college near Northpoint, so I'm just helping him study. Don't cling to me so much lately. If you have questions, ask the tutor.

There were countless other little slights, too many to list. It wasn't just her lens drifting away from me; it was her affection.

I stood up, walked over to my suitcase, and threw the confession gift I had painstakingly prepared for her straight into the trash. Then, I rebooked my flight home. I didn't want to spend another second on this trip.

The next morning, while we were having breakfast in the hotel dining room, I announced I was leaving early. Hearing this, Sylvia froze, a piece of toast still hovering halfway to Tristan's plate.

Tristan spoke up. Ryan, are you feeling sick, or are you just not having a good time?

I offered a small smile. I had fun, but I suddenly feel like exploring a different path. This is where our journey together ends. Also, we aren't close, Tristan. Please don't address me so familiarly. I don't appreciate it.

A wave of pure embarrassment washed over Tristan's face.

Sylvia immediately came to his defense, snapping at me. Ryan, why are you being so rude? He was just checking on you, and you snapped at him for no reason. Is this about what our classmates said in the group chat last night? It's fine if you're jealous, but don't take your frustration out on Tristan just because he's nice.

I caught the fleeting spark of smug satisfaction in her eyes when she said the word jealous. Even now, her first instinct was to shield Tristan, using my obvious pain as validation of her own power over me.

I took a deep breath, meeting her gaze calmly. This has nothing to do with those jokes. I honestly don't care who you're interested in; that's between the two of you. I'm simply telling Tristan that I value boundaries. I finished eating, so I'll head to the airport now. Have a nice trip.

Sylvia grabbed my wrist. Stop! If you aren't jealous, why are you suddenly running away? Fine, I'll go clear things up in the group chat right now, alright? Just sit down.

I pulled my hand out of her grip. I suggest you start respecting personal boundaries, too.

Behind me, Sylvia's voice shook with suppressed fury. Ryan, if you walk out today, you are going to regret this!

A sudden emptiness hollowed out my chest, but after a fleeting moment of sorrow, a profound sense of relief washed over me. If I left, would I miss out on something? Let it be missed, then. We had already missed countless opportunities because of Tristan anyway.

When I got back home, my mom gave me a knowing look. Well? How did it go?

I asked her what she meant.

She clicked her tongue. Sylvia's mom told me she had been saving up for ages to plan a grand confession with fireworks for you on the trip. Are you two officially together now?

I looked down. So, the thing I missed was a confession.

My fingers aimlessly unlocked my phone, and I opened my social feed. Tristan had just posted a new update:

Thanks to our favorite girl for the amazing fireworks display. Feeling incredibly lucky!

The attached photo showed a spectacular burst of colors illuminating the night sky, capturing the silhouettes of two figures standing close together.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. How cheap and easily transferable her love was. Missing out on it was the best stroke of luck Id ever had.

Mom, I don't have feelings for Sylvia anymore, I said softly. And I changed my college choice to Southport University. Please don't tell her parents.

My mom stared at me in shock. ...Did you two have a fight?

I shook my head, keeping details to myself. Theres no future for Sylvia and me. I'm going to spend the summer at Grandma's. I'll be back when it's time for school.

In the past, whenever we had a cold war, I was always the one to reach out first. Now, I had finally let go. For nearly two months, we maintained absolute silence.

Right before the semester started, Sylvia's mother asked my mom if they should book us on the same flight. My mother politely declined, stating that I would handle my own travel. On move-in day, during the five-hour flight, I kept my eyes shut to rest. The moment the plane touched down in Southport, I pulled out my phone. As soon as I unlocked the screen, a flood of missed calls and unread messages filled my notifications. Every single one of them was from Sylvia.