Edward got out carrying his lunch bag.
He walked toward the corner.
There was a trash can there.
My chest tightened.
Then he placed the lunch bag carefully beside it.
Not inside the trash.
Beside it.
He opened the bag.
Pulled out my note.
Unfolded it.
And read it.
Then he paused.
Went back to the beginning.
And read it again.
Something inside me loosened.
Whatever else was happening, he wasn’t throwing away the notes.
He folded the card and slipped it into his pocket.
Then he returned to his truck.
Opened the back.
And pulled out a duffel bag.
I watched him remove his construction overalls.
Underneath, he changed into the navy suit.
Our wedding suit.
He adjusted the jacket.
Fixed his hair using the side mirror.
And when he finally stood beside the truck fully dressed, I had the strangest feeling.
He looked like the man I had married twelve years earlier.
Twenty minutes later, a silver car arrived.
A woman stepped out.
She looked around Edward’s age.
Early forties.
Dark hair.
Professional clothes.
Blazer and trousers.
She walked straight toward him.
And hugged him.
He hugged her back.
Then Edward climbed into her passenger seat.
They drove away.
I followed.
They crossed town and entered a newer business district I rarely visited.
Finally, they stopped in front of a modern three-story glass-and-steel building.
The woman got out.
Edward followed.
They started talking near the entrance.
I parked and got out of my car.
As I approached, I heard her say,
“Twelve years, Edward. Your wife still thinks you’re a construction worker?”
I stopped.
Edward answered,
“You’re right. I can’t keep hiding who I really am.”
My chest tightened.
Then he said,
“I’ll tell her tonight.”
I stepped forward.
“What exactly are you going to tell me?”
Edward spun around.
The expression on his face changed instantly.
“Rachel.”
The woman stepped backward, clearly realizing this conversation wasn’t hers.
I looked at Edward.
“Jamie saw you Tuesday.”
He went still.
“He saw you leave the lunch by the trash.”
“Rachel—”
“And he saw the suit.”
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