“I sound like someone who plans to read what she signs.”

She did not answer.

I walked into the kitchen and made myself a cup of tea.

Through the doorway, I could see her reaching for her phone.

That evening Kenneth asked whether I wanted to go out for dinner.

The invitation came with flowers, a familiar hand against my shoulder, and the cheerful confidence of a man who believed kindness could erase questions before they were asked.

“I’ve been so busy,” he said.