So I did the thing people tell you never to do.
I tested him.
I spent two days planning it like I was preparing for a crime.
I dug through donation bags in my building’s basement.
I found old clothes that smelled like rain and dust.
I smeared dirt along the sleeves, splashed coffee on the collar, and wrapped a faded scarf around my head and lower face.
In the mirror, I didn’t look like a bride.
I looked like someone the world steps around.
And that was the point.
I texted Walter:
“Meet me at Leighton’s Bistro tomorrow, my love. I have something important to show you. Honeymoon related.”
He replied instantly.
“Can’t wait, my Ava.”
Leighton’s was all white linen and soft jazz.
Familiar territory.
I wanted to see how he’d behave when the setting was “our” world… but the person in front of him wasn’t.
I arrived early and waited at the far edge of the lot, shaking from cold and nerves.
Then his car pulled in.
And suddenly, this stopped feeling like a test… and started feeling like a cliff.
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