Chapter 4

"Want to get some water?" Michael's tone softened a bit, but I could tell he wasn't really invested. He seemed distracted, as if his mind were somewhere else.

"No, thanks," I said, taking a deep breath and trying to keep my voice steady. "Let's finish filling out the forms. No need to drag it out."

I had to stay calm. I had to.

Were we really going to get the license? How could we be together like this? But how could I stop this?

Should I say, "Let's call it off"?

What excuse would I have?

If he insisted it had nothing to do with him or brushed it off with some random story, then what could I do?

I got no evidence at all.

I barely glanced at that message; I didn't have time to snap a photo.

If he pocketed his phone and deleted the message, I was screwed. There would be nothing left. Even if I tried to explain, nobody would buy it.

I needed evidence.

Suddenly, a wave of icy clarity crashed down on me, sharper than anything I'd ever felt.

Three years of going along, three years of compromise, all swept away by a steely determination that took over in an instant.

I couldn't shut my eyes and jump blindly into the flames. I had to find out what really happened.

"It's our turn," Michael said, double-checking the forms before gathering both of our documents and heading for the counter.

I stood up, too, but my legs felt like jelly, and my feet were so unsteady it was like I was walking on clouds.

"Wait," I said, grabbing his arm.

He turned back, frowning. "What now?"

My mind was spinning, scrambling for a believable excuse, something that could put the brakes on getting the license without making Michael suspicious.

Then I caught sight of the form we'd finished, and suddenly had an idea. I pointed at one box, trying to look both anxious and innocent. "I think I messed up here. I couldn't remember the detail.

"Do you think that'll mess things up? Like, will it cause trouble later when we need to do paperwork? Should we redo the form?"

I made sure my voice sounded all flustered and a little pitiful.

This was practically muscle memory for me. For three years, I'd always played the slightly clueless act around Michael, letting him call all the shots.

Sure enough, Michael frowned, leaned in to check the spot I pointed out, and grumbled, "Why are you always so careless? You can't fix this. If you mess up, you have to start over."

The woman at the counter glanced over with a straight face. "If you made a mistake, you have to fill out a new form. There are blank ones on the table over there. Go grab one yourself."

Michael let out a sigh, his annoyance obvious. "What a hassle. Hurry up and get a new form. Rewrite it, and I'll wait here."

"Okay, I'll be right back," I said, feeling like I'd been pardoned. I quickly turned and headed for the table with the blank forms.

My legs were shaky, but my mind had never been clearer.

I needed a little more time. I had to find out if that message was legit. Redoing the form would buy me a little more time.

I deliberately dragged my feet, grabbing a new form, then slowly made my way back to Michael.

He had his head down, glued to his phone, fingers moving fast as he messaged someone.

Was he messaging Melissa?

Was he letting her know the plan's changed, or reassuring her?

I sat down next to him, picked up my pen, and started acting all serious as I filled out the new form.

I dragged out every stroke, copying my earlier handwriting, afraid that any slip would raise red flags and make him start doubting me.

Michael waited for quite a while, clearly getting impatient. He glanced at his phone. "Hurry up. It's almost noon. I've got a crucial meeting at my company this afternoon. I can't be late."

"Yeah, almost done, a sec," I kept nodding and agreeing, but inside, my insides felt frozen, chills washing over me again and again.

A meeting? What meeting could be more important than getting our marriage license? Or was that "meeting" an excuse, something to do with that five-year-old kid?

Finally, I finished the second form, making a show of being extra careful, and handed it over to Michael for him to check.

"You didn't mess it up again, did you?" Michael asked, barely glancing at it, sounding impatient.

"I think it's fine now," I muttered, keeping my head down, too anxious to look him in the eye.

We headed to the counter together again.

With every step, my heart sank a little more.

Once we handed over the forms, everything would be set in stone.

No, this couldn't go through. There was absolutely no way we were getting that license.