It was an ordinary day when I sent my husband this picture, showing me with our neighbor’s horse. I didn’t think much of it.
“The shadow,” he spat out. “The shadow on your back, don’t lie to me.”
It was only then that I realized what he had seen.
The shadow of Thunder’s head and neck had cast a long, dark figure on my back—one that looked disturbingly like the silhouette of a man standing behind me, hands around my waist.
In that moment, I understood what he thought. To him, it looked like I wasn’t alone.
No matter how much I tried to explain that it was simply the horse’s shadow, he refused to believe me. His mind was made up, and no amount of reasoning could change it. The image had played a cruel trick, distorting reality just enough to make him doubt everything. It wasn’t just the picture; it was his trust that had been shattered in that fleeting moment of illusion. From then on, he questioned what was real and what wasn’t, and nothing I said could undo the damage that had already been done.