The woman in black introduced herself as Ms. Bennett.
She explained that she was handling the documentation connected to the matter.
I asked whether she was a lawyer.
She told me her role was different from what I was assuming, and that she would explain the formal details once the immediate questions had been addressed.
I was too tired to argue over titles.
I wanted answers.
I wanted to know why my name was on that page.
Most of all, I wanted to understand why Alex had looked so frightened when he saw it.
Ms. Bennett returned the document to the folder.
"Can you tell me where you were when this was supposedly signed?"
I studied the date again.
"I can't tell you the exact hour."
"That's fine. Anything you remember about that day would help."
I closed my eyes for a moment.
The date brought back a Thursday in early summer.
Alex had left for work before I woke up.
He'd sent me a photograph of his coffee around lunchtime, followed by a message saying he might be home late.
That evening, I had eaten soup from a mug because I didn't feel like washing a plate.
I remembered calling him at around nine.
He hadn't answered.
Later, he sent a message saying he was still in a meeting.
I had gone to bed without him.
Nothing about that day had seemed unusual.
That was what made it so difficult to think about.
I couldn't point to a single moment and say, There. That's when I should have known.
It had all looked ordinary.
I told Ms. Bennett what I remembered.
She wrote it down.
Then she asked whether Alex ever handled paperwork on my behalf.
"Sometimes," I admitted.
"What kind of paperwork?"
"Household bills. Insurance renewals. Things that needed both our information."
"Did he ever ask you to sign documents without explaining them?"
I thought about it.
"He would sometimes tell me a form was routine."
"Did you sign it?"
"If he explained what it was, yes."
"And if he didn't?"
"I asked questions."
I paused.
"Usually."
That last word made me uncomfortable.
I remembered the briefcase beside the kitchen counter.
I remembered Alex saying I wouldn't want to waste my evening reading business documents.
I remembered letting the subject drop because I trusted him.
I looked at the page again.
"I don't remember signing anything like this."
Ms. Bennett nodded.
"That distinction is important."
I leaned closer.
"Can you tell me what the document was for?"
She explained that the paperwork appeared to involve a financial arrangement and that the signature needed to be verified.
She didn't pretend the document proved who had signed it.
She didn't tell me Alex was guilty.
She simply said the matter required further examination.
I appreciated that honesty.
I also hated it.
I wanted a simple answer.
I wanted someone to tell me that Alex had made a mistake, that the signature was a misunderstanding, and that the worst thing I would have to deal with was the end of my marriage.
But nothing about the evening felt simple anymore.
A waiter approached our table.
He carried a small bottle of water and two clean glasses.
He placed them beside the folder, then hesitated.
"Would you like anything else, ma'am?"
I looked at my cold sea bass.
"No, thank you."
He nodded and walked away.
I watched him return to the service station.
The restaurant had slowly begun making noise again, but it wasn't the same noise as before.
People were whispering.
Some guests had returned to their meals.
Others kept glancing toward Alex.
I wondered how many of them had seen the proposal.
I wondered how many would remember it tomorrow.
Then I remembered the blonde woman.
"Can I ask you something?"
Ms. Bennett looked up.
"Of course."
"Does she know about this?"
I didn't need to point.
The woman in the booth was still sitting beside the ring box.
Ms. Bennett followed my gaze.
"I can't speak for what she knows."
I nodded.
It wasn't the answer I wanted, but it was fair.
I had no idea what Alex had told her.
Perhaps she had been deceived too.
Perhaps she had known about me and believed he would leave.
Perhaps she had been waiting for the proposal because she thought it meant their future was secure.
I couldn't know.
I refused to make her the center of my anger simply because she was easier to blame than the man who had promised to love me.
Still, seeing her hand rest against her stomach hurt.
I thought about the child.
Whatever the adults had done, that baby had no part in it.
I looked at Ms. Bennett.
"Is the child involved in the paperwork?"
"I don't have enough information to tell you that."
I accepted the answer.
Then I noticed Nicholas standing.
He placed some money beside his water glass and walked toward our table.
For a moment, I thought he was going to leave without speaking to me.
Instead, he stopped a few feet away.
"How are you holding up?"
I looked at him.
"Do you really need to ask?"
"No."
He glanced at the folder.
"Have they explained the document?"
"Not completely."
He nodded as though he had expected that.
I felt my patience slipping.
"You knew this was going to happen."
"I knew there was a matter that needed attention."
"You knew the police were coming."
"I knew they had been contacted."
"And you knew my husband would be here?"
Nicholas paused.
"I knew he was expected to be here tonight."
I stared at him.
"Why?"
He looked toward Alex.
"Because the people involved needed to address the matter."
I shook my head.
"That tells me nothing."
"I understand."
"No, you don't. You sat beside me while I watched my husband propose to another woman. You told me not to react because you knew something else was coming. Now there's a document with my name on it, and everyone keeps telling me they can't explain."
Nicholas accepted my anger without interrupting.
When I finished, he pulled out the chair beside Ms. Bennett but didn't sit.
"I can't give you details that aren't mine to disclose."
I laughed once, without humor.
"That's convenient."
"Perhaps."
He looked at the wedding ring on my hand.
"But you should know that you were right to question the signature."
My laughter stopped.
I stared at him.
"How would you know whether it's my signature?"
He didn't answer directly.
Instead, he looked at Ms. Bennett.
She gave him a small nod.
Nicholas turned back to me.
"The document needs to be examined properly. Don't let anyone pressure you into accepting it as yours."
I looked down at the paper.
The signature was close enough to mine that someone who didn't know me might have accepted it.
But I knew my own handwriting.
I knew the way I crossed certain letters.
I knew how my surname ended.
And I knew I hadn't signed that page.
I lifted my eyes toward Alex.
He was no longer looking at me.
He was staring at the floor beside the booth.
For two years, I had taken his word over my own doubts.
That night, I decided I would no longer do that.
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: The Woman in Black Asked Me to Describe My Own Signature, and I Realized How Often Trust Had Made Me Stop Asking Questions
My Husband Sent Me an Anniversary Message While Sitting Close Enough for Me to See the Woman He Had Chosen Instead
Part 6 of 20
