You have that look in your eyes. They're down and away, headed back to the shoes they were torn from. The turn of your lips shows your somber dismay, done smiling fast as the speed of the shutter.
This sullen depiction of your disposition starkly contrasts the first of the shots. If not for the latter, I'm not sure it'd matter; if any would notice or not.
So which deserves framing? the one where you're claiming a life in which you are content? Or the one that confides, with that look in your eyes, how all of our time was misspent? Which picture? the first, worth one thousand white lies, or the one that caught eyes as they beckoned? Though you tried to hide it, and could for the first, you couldn't fake it for even a second.
I'll develop a copy of each of the shots to put on your desk or your dresser. I'll tuck the bad behind the good, though its value is no lesser. If a day should come and leave us with both our hearts abused, perhaps you'll find this honest proof and won't feel so confused.