Six Months
Chapter 02 - Six Months
The reception ended without anyone announcing it.
Guests collected coats in silence. The quartet packed their instruments while hotel staff covered the ruined cake with white banquet cloths.
Jennifer stood near the ballroom windows and watched people avoid looking at her.
Her father spoke with security.
Her mother cried in a chair.
David had disappeared with Melissa and two hotel managers into a side corridor.
Priya came to Jennifer holding a glass of water.
“Drink.”
Jennifer took it.
Ice clicked against the rim.
“What did he say?”
“Nothing useful.”
Jennifer twisted the engagement ring.
The movement had become automatic.
Priya looked at her hand.
“Stop doing that before you cut yourself.”
Jennifer lowered it.
“Is she really pregnant?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he deny it?”
Priya’s mouth flattened.
“No.”
The answer removed the last useful noise from the room.
Jennifer set the water on a cocktail table.
A dark wet circle appeared beneath the glass.
Her wedding planner approached with a clipboard pressed to her chest.
“Jennifer, the hotel wants to know whether to preserve the damaged items for a police report.”
“Preserve them.”
David’s voice came from behind her.
Jennifer turned.
He had frosting on one cuff and a faint red mark along his jaw.
Melissa was gone.
Priya stepped closer.
“Where is she?”
“Security escorted her out.”
“Did she leave willingly?”
“Eventually.”
Jennifer looked at him.
“Is she pregnant?”
David ran both hands over his face.
“Can we do this somewhere private?”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s complicated.”
“No.”
Her voice stayed quiet.
“It’s either true or it isn’t.”
He looked toward the ballroom doors.
“Jennifer.”
“Did you sleep with her?”
He lowered his voice.
“We were still sorting things out.”
Priya made a small sound.
David turned toward her.
“This is between me and my wife.”
Priya’s expression sharpened.
“Which one?”
Jennifer closed her eyes for one second.
*Not here.*
She opened them again.
“Side room. Now.”
---
The hotel’s bridal lounge had a stained velvet sofa, two mirrors with round bulbs, and a tray of untouched sandwiches.
Jennifer sat on the edge of a chair.
David stood near the sink.
He looked like a man waiting for someone else to begin his confession.
“When?”
He stared at the faucet.
“Melissa and I were separated.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He turned.
“Last summer.”
Jennifer’s hand moved to the ring.
Eight months earlier, he had proposed to her on a restaurant terrace overlooking the river.
He had said the divorce was basically finalized.
He had said there was no reason to delay their life because a courthouse was slow.
Jennifer had laughed when he produced the ring.
“This belonged to my grandmother,” he said. “She wore it for fifty-two years.”
“That seems like a lot to put on one hand.”
“It means fresh starts can last.”
She remembered believing him because he sounded certain.
Now the room smelled of hairspray and cold coffee.
“Last summer when?”
David sat on the sofa.
“June. Maybe early July.”
“We were together.”
“I know.”
“We had been together for months.”
“I know.”
“Were you still living with her?”
“No.”
“Were you still married?”
His face changed.
Not surprise.
Calculation.
Jennifer saw it.
“What date was your divorce finalized?”
David stood again.
“It was filed.”
“What date?”
“The papers were in motion.”
“What date?”
He looked at her dress.
“I don’t remember the exact day.”
Jennifer stopped twisting the ring.
She had worked with stroke patients who could not remember dates.
David remembered closing dates, property tax deadlines, and the exact hour a contract option expired.
He remembered what benefited him.
“You don’t know when your marriage ended?”
“It was emotionally over long before the court caught up.”
“That isn’t a date.”
He stepped toward her.
“I love you.”
She moved back.
“Don’t.”
“I made mistakes.”
“You married me today.”
“Yes.”
“Were you legally divorced?”
His mouth opened.
Nothing came.
The hotel refrigerator under the counter clicked on.
A faint hum filled the room.
Jennifer looked at his left hand.
The wedding band she had placed there less than three hours earlier.
“Take it off.”
He stared at her.
“What?”
“Take it off.”
“Jennifer, please.”
She pointed at his hand.
“Now.”
David pulled off the ring and set it on the counter.
It made a small metallic sound.
Jennifer looked down at her own ring.
She could not remove it.
Not yet.
Her fingers felt swollen.
Or maybe she simply could not make them move.
Priya knocked once and entered.
“Your parents are ready to leave.”
David turned.
“Give us a minute.”
“No,” Jennifer said.
She stood.
The satin skirt dragged over the carpet.
“Priya, can you find out when his divorce was finalized?”
David looked at her sharply.
“That’s not necessary.”
Priya did not look away from him.
“It is now.”
Jennifer reached for her overnight bag.
David stepped between her and the door.
“Where are you going?”
“My parents’ house.”
“Come home with me.”
“I don’t live with you.”
That had been his idea.
He had said keeping her apartment until after the wedding would make the transition feel clean.
She had thought it was considerate.
Now it looked like another unfinished doorway.
“Jennifer, we can fix this.”
She touched the ring.
The diamond pressed into the side of her finger.
“You can start by giving me the date.”
He looked down.
Still nothing.
---
At one forty in the morning, Jennifer sat on the edge of the bed in her parents’ guest room.
She had not changed out of the wedding dress.
Her veil lay across a chair.
A room humidifier made a soft bubbling sound beside the window.
Priya sat cross-legged on the floor with a laptop.
“I can search the public index tonight,” she said. “Full documents may take until morning.”
Jennifer nodded.
Her mother had left tea outside the door and not knocked again.
A kindness.
Priya typed.
“County?”
“Here.”
“Filed under Kessler and Kessler?”
“I think so.”
Priya searched.
The blue light from the screen made her face look pale.
Jennifer stared at the engagement ring.
She remembered David insisting the heirloom meant a new beginning.
Now she wondered whether he had taken it off Melissa’s hand before placing it on hers.
Her stomach turned.
Priya stopped typing.
“What?”
“Nothing yet.”
“That pause wasn’t nothing.”
“I found the case.”
Jennifer pressed both palms against the dress.
“Status?”
Priya clicked.
The page loaded slowly.
“Jennifer.”
“Tell me.”
Priya looked up.
“The divorce judgment wasn’t entered before today.”
The room tilted, but Jennifer stayed seated.
“When?”
“I need the certified record.”
“Priya.”
Her friend took a breath.
“The online index shows final entry three weeks from now.”
Jennifer stared at her.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
Priya closed the laptop halfway.
“It means the divorce may not have been final when he married you.”
Jennifer looked down at the ring again.
May you like
Then she picked up her phone.
“Find out everything.”
