I gripped the phone harder.
“Would they?”
“Of course.
And Keith should feel it’s his home too.
A husband needs security.”
I almost asked whether she meant security before or after they got rid of me.
Instead, I said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Her tone cooled.
“Don’t make a simple thing difficult, Hannah.”
Then she caught herself and laughed.
“You know how paperwork makes everyone nervous.”
The call ended.
I wrote down the time and what she had said while it was still fresh in my memory.
For the next several days, I behaved exactly as Keith expected.
I went to work.
I made dinner.
I asked ordinary questions.
I listened when he talked about renovations.
I even let him show me pictures of a larger kitchen on his phone, though the sight of his hand sliding across images of my house made my stomach turn.
Meanwhile, I began looking carefully at our finances.
Nothing dramatic appeared at first.
Bills.
Utilities.
Groceries.
The ordinary machinery of a marriage.
But I started noticing how often Keith had framed his own expenses as “ours” while treating my inheritance and the house as resources waiting to be absorbed into the marriage.
The pattern became clearer because I was finally looking at it without love translating everything into innocence.
A week after the phone call, Keith came home carrying a large envelope.
My heart began pounding the moment I saw it.
He placed it on the kitchen counter with deliberate casualness.
“I got some preliminary paperwork.
Nothing serious.”
I kept cutting vegetables.
“For what?”
“The house.
Just to see what transferring it into both names would involve.”
I set the knife down.
“You already had papers prepared?”
He laughed.
“Prepared is a strong word.
It’s just information.”
He slid the envelope toward me.
“Look it over.”
I didn’t open it.
“You can leave it there.”
The smile faded from his face.
“Hannah, why are you acting strange about this?”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
He stepped closer.
“It’s a house.
We’re husband and wife.
Why would my name being on it bother you unless you don’t see this marriage lasting?”
The manipulation was so precise that I almost felt detached watching it happen.
He was turning his demand into proof of my disloyalty.
“Did you tell Eleanor you were bringing these?” I asked.
