As we began reviewing the agreement, my mind drifted to the email I had received late last night. It was from an anonymous sender, containing a string of text messages exchanged between Ben and someone saved as « A. » The messages were explicit and undeniable. My best friend, Anna, was not just a name on his phone; she was a part of his day-to-day life in ways I had never imagined. But I couldn’t confront him directly, not yet. Instead, I let the silence stretch, watching his discomfort grow under my restrained scrutiny.
« Everything seems fine, » he said, sliding the paper back my way. « We just need to sign. » His hand trembled ever so slightly as he reached for the pen. I looked at it, then at him, my heart pounding. I needed more than an envelope and a suspicion; I needed proof that couldn’t be denied or dismissed.
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