My fingers were trembling.
I recognized Ben’s handwriting immediately.
I turned the envelope over.
There was no stamp.
No date.
Just three words written on the back.
Please forgive me.
I looked at Arnold.
“What did he do?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why does he need forgiveness?”
Arnold’s face crumpled.
“I don’t know how to say this.”
“Try.”
He took a breath.
“Ben has been coming here after his shifts.”
“I know. He works here.”
“No.”
Arnold shook his head.
“I mean after everyone thinks he’s gone home.”
My mouth went dry.
“How long?”
“Almost a year.”
A year.
The same amount of time Ben had been changing.
The same year he had missed our anniversary.
The same year he had started coming home after midnight.
The same year I had begun wondering whether he still loved me.
