Michael, a photography enthusiast, bought an antique camera from a flea market one day and decided to develop the film he discovered inside. He learned something terrible after seeing images of his missing son. Michael had been alone for many years, and one of his main sources of solace was collecting vintage cameras. Sometimes they came with the film still inside, and other times they came with outdated SD cards. The latter could not always be recovered in order to view the images, but Michael attempted nonetheless.

Looking at other people’s happy lives made him feel better about his own, which had turned bleak two decades before when his four-year-old son, Leon, vanished for good. He was arguing with his ex-wife, Tracey, at a nearby shop when their child ran away, and he was never recovered. He and Tracey divorced six months later because they could never recover from the sorrow. He went through a difficult spell following that until photography drew him out of the darkness. But then everything changed.

As nervousness coursed through his system, he rang the doorbell with a shaky hand. Nothing could have prepared him for the person who answered the door, no matter how hard he tried. He acquired an old, secondhand camera from a man his age at a flea market and discovered it contained undeveloped film. He went into the red room he’d made in his residence to work on the photographs. He didn’t pay much attention to them while working because he was more interested in the finished product. He couldn’t believe it when they were finally ready. “It’s impossible,” he told himself. His voice was full of surprise and perplexity.

He grabbed the stack of pictures, skimmed through them, and rushed to his room to find his old photo albums. They were hidden in his closet because they were tough to look at, but he needed them urgently now. He opened an album at a page that featured some of his son’s last pictures and placed the newly developed photos next to them. “I’m right. But how?” he asked, looking up as if God could give him some guidance. But he looked back down and knew the truth. The new pictures featured his missing son. The one he had not seen for many years.

As he flipped through the photos he had developed, he saw his growing up before his eyes. There were pictures of him at the beach. Another photo showed him on what seemed like his first day at school. The others featured Leon getting taller, playing soccer, celebrating his birthdays, and the final one was of his high school graduation. Surprisingly, the young man in the photos had graduated from Michael’s alma mater in Pasadena, California. But he couldn’t understand what was going on. Could this be a coincidence? Maybe this boy was just Leon’s doppelganger.

But if the boy was Leon, he appeared to have lived a beautiful life. Somehow, that thought eased Michael’s mind. It gave him peace to think that his son was never scared or in pain, no matter what happened. But soon enough, thoughts of discovering the truth crept into his mind, and he couldn’t let them go. He went to the flea market the following day, but the man who sold him the camera was nowhere to be found. He tried for a few days and nothing. His next option was to go to his alma mater and ask around.

Luckily, the principal’s secretary still remembered him. “Michael, dear! How are you?” “Mrs. Marley, you’re still working here? Why haven’t you retired?” Michael greeted her with a smile, and they chit-chatted some more about life before he got down to business. He asked her about a boy named Leon Collins, and Mrs. Marley shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t recall that name, and you know I make it a point to know all my students,” she answered, frowning at Michael.

“Ok, but do you remember this boy?” he asked, pulling the graduation photo from his pocket, and Mrs. Marley recognized him immediately. “Of course! He was our star soccer player, but his name was Samuel Day,” the older woman revealed, making Michael frown. He asked more about Samuel and wondered if she had his old address, but Mrs. Marley didn’t want to reveal that information. When Michael confessed his suspicions about what happened to his little boy, she relented and went through the school records.

“I assume Samuel is at college, but this was his parents’ address while he was here. I hope you find what you’re looking for, Michael,” she sympathized. Michael thanked her and drove directly to the address on the piece of paper she gave him, hoping someone would be there. He rang the doorbell with a shaking hand as nervousness coursed through his system. He tried to shake it off, but nothing could have prepared him for the person who answered the door.

“Tracey?” he said, his jaw wide and his eyes confused. “Michael? What are you doing here?” she asked, opening the door wider and crossing her arms. Michael couldn’t respond for a few seconds. He was frozen. He didn’t know what to think or to feel. Then he finally spoke up. “Where is my son?” he demanded, his shock turning to anger although he tried to tone it down. Tracey uncrossed her arms, breathed a deep sigh, and exited her house, closing the door behind her.

“Michael, Leon was never your son,” she revealed, acting nonchalantly although he was breaking his heart on the spot. “I was dating someone else while I was with you, and he disappeared when I told him I was pregnant. So… I didn’t have a choice. I told you Leon was your son because I didn’t want to raise him alone.” “No. You’re lying,” Michael breathed. “I don’t know how you found out or why you’re here,” Tracey started. “But I have a DNA test to prove it.

His father came back and wanted to be in his life. I fell for him again, and we didn’t know what to do, so we came up with a plan. We lied to you, and we moved on.” “That’s… that’s…,” he stuttered, angry tears falling from the corners of his eyes. “Despicable!” “I guess. But I don’t regret it,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders. “You could’ve told me the truth so I wouldn’t have suffered or mourned my kid for almost two decades, Tracey! Jesus! How could you?”

“It doesn’t really matter now. Samuel doesn’t remember you at all. My husband is his father, and you can’t do anything about it. If you come here again, I’ll file a police report and get you arrested,” she threatened, getting angry herself. “I’m on his birth certificate!””We changed that, too, years ago. There’s nothing you can do. Now, go away and never try to approach my Sam,” Tracey insisted, her face twisted in disdain. She opened her door and went back inside.

Michael got in his car and yelled. He hit the steering wheel, pulled on his hair, and cried. About an hour passed until he calmed down his breathing and finally turned on his ignition. On the drive home, he started thinking about calling the police, contacting a lawyer, anything that could give him his son back. But when he got to his room and saw the other pictures he left on the floor, he realized Leon lived a good life.

He was happy, and he didn’t remember Michael. He would only be the villain in his story if he pursued things to punish Tracey and her husband, whom he assumed had sold him the camera. He cried some more that night, and the day after, and the day after that. He never fully recovered from what Tracey did to him, but he did his best to move on.