The camera never lies

After the shower, I went back into the front room. She was now half dressed, obviously having quickly pulled on some clothes to appear more normal, but she was still searching nervously in every corner of the house.
‘Still looking? It’s here,’ I held it out to her. ‘it was on the kitchen work surface.’ I told her blankly. She came over and took it, trying not to look hurried and keeping calm. ‘Really?’ she said frowning. ‘I looked in the kitchen twice?’ Her eyes were fixed on mine as she searched for any sign of trouble.
‘Well, there it was.’ I said with a slight grin. ‘Panic over.’ and I went upstairs to get changed. As I left the room, I heard the bleep of the camera turn on and imagined her scrolling through the images one by one, deleting them as she went.

It was never mentioned again and I never brought up what I’d seen. The photos had revealed she’d been fucking a guy in our house, but his face never appeared on any of the pictures, so I never did guess who it was. It could have been any one of her friends or mine.
From that day on the camera remained hidden for long periods of time. But on the odd occasional I did come across it, among books or hidden behind CD’s, I would always hopefully turn it on, but it was always empty.
But, I still get a kick out of that day when I think back over the things I saw.
And I still smirk to myself, imagining the look on her face when she’d got through deleting all the images on that camera and got to the very last one… the 13th picture.
A photograph of a shower door with a heart scrawled into the steamed glass and the words ‘THANK YOU’ at it’s center, punctuated by a thick running line of semen.