Chapter 13: The Notice
The written bank notice arrived three days later.
Matthew found it first. I heard the change in his footsteps when he opened the envelope in the kitchen—the brief pause, the sharper intake of breath, the careful way he set the paper down as if it might still be managed if handled lightly. When I entered the room he had already arranged his face into mild confusion.
“Did you request a hold on the accounts?” he asked.
I poured coffee and answered without hesitation.
“I was reviewing everything after the anniversary. Some of the automatic transfers looked unfamiliar. I wanted them verified before anything moved.”
His smile remained in place, but the eyes behind it had gone colder and more precise. For the first time since I had returned to the house I watched him calculate in real time—measuring how much I knew, how much I had seen, how much of the structure was still hidden.
“You should have talked to me,” he said. “I could have explained.”
May you like
“I’m sure you could,” I replied. “I’d rather the bank explain it.”
He held my gaze for a long moment, then nodded as if the entire matter were a small administrative inconvenience between two people who trusted each other completely. The performance was still intact. The confidence beneath it had begun to crack.
