PART 5 — THE DEBT WASN’T MINE

 THE ENVELOPE

I stayed on the phone with Rachel for almost twenty minutes.

She told me everything she remembered.

The apartment.

The letters.

The arguments.

The promises Nathan had made.

But there was one thing she kept repeating.

“I honestly thought you knew.”

“I didn’t.”

“I swear, Sofia, if I had known he was still married to you in the way he described it, I would never have gotten involved.”

“I believe you.”

There was a pause.

Then she said something that made me sit up.

“Sofia?”

“Yes?”

“I still have some of his mail.”

My heart started beating faster.

“What kind of mail?”

“I don’t know. I never opened it.”

“Can you look at the envelopes?”

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

I heard her moving around.

A drawer opened.

Then another.

A few seconds passed.

“I found one.”

“What does it say?”

“It’s from a debt collection company.”

I closed my eyes.

“What’s the date?”

“Two months ago.”

My stomach tightened.

“Anything else?”

“There are two more.”

“Read the names.”

She did.

Both were addressed to Nathan.

Then she became quiet.

“There is one with your name.”

I stopped breathing.

“What?”

“Your name is printed on the envelope.”

“Is it addressed to you?”

“No.”

“To Nathan?”

“No.”

“Then who?”

She hesitated.

“It says Sofia.”

My hands became cold.

“Don’t open it.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Take a picture of the front.”

A few seconds later, my phone buzzed.

I opened the photo.

The envelope showed my full name.

Our home address.

And beneath it, the name of a financial company I didn’t recognize.

I stared at it.

There was no reason for a debt company to be sending me mail at Rachel’s apartment.

Unless someone had used my information.

I called the bank again.

This time I asked to speak to the fraud department.

I explained everything.

The representative asked me several questions.

Had I applied for a new credit card?

No.

Had I applied for a personal loan?

No.

Had I authorized Nathan to apply for credit on my behalf?

No.

Had I given anyone permission to use my employment information?

No.

Then came the question I was afraid of.

“Do you have any joint financial accounts with this person?”

“Yes.”

“Are you married?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause.

“Then we need to review whether the application was for an individual account or a joint obligation.”

My stomach dropped.

“What does that mean?”

“It depends on what was submitted.”

I looked at the screen.

“Can you tell me if the application was approved?”

“No.”

“Was it declined?”

“Yes.”

I exhaled.

At least one thing was clear.

The loan hadn’t gone through.

But the fact that someone had tried was enough.

I thanked her and ended the call.

Then I called Rachel again.

“I need that envelope.”

“You want me to bring it?”

“Yes.”

“Tonight?”

“If you can.”

“I’ll come.”

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at my hotel room.

I opened the door.

Rachel stood there holding a small paper bag.

She looked exhausted.

“I brought everything.”

I let her inside.

She placed the envelopes on the table.

There were four.

Three addressed to Nathan.

One addressed to me.

I picked up mine.

The return address was the same financial company the bank had mentioned.

I opened it carefully.

Inside was a notice.

It wasn’t a bill.

It was a verification request.

Someone had apparently attempted to open an account using my information.

The application had been flagged.

My employment information had been entered.

My annual income had been entered.

My address had been entered.

And one section made my blood run cold.

Purpose of funds: debt consolidation.

I looked at Rachel.

“Did Nathan know about this?”

She shook her head.

“I don’t know.”

I sat down.

Debt consolidation.

He had been trying to get another loan.

Not to buy something.

Not to start a business.

Not even to pay off one particular debt.

He wanted to borrow more money to pay older debts.

He was digging another hole to fill the first one.

Rachel sat across from me.

“He told me he was going to fix everything.”

“He told me the same thing.”

She looked at me.

“I think he believed it.”

I looked at the envelope.

“Maybe.”

Then I shook my head.

“But believing you can fix something doesn’t give you the right to involve someone else.”

Rachel nodded.

I gathered the documents.

“I’m going home.”

Her eyes widened.

“Tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

I looked at the envelopes.

“I need answers.”

Rachel stood.

“I’ll come with you.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because this is my marriage.”

She nodded.

“But Sofia…”

I looked at her.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For telling me the truth.”

She gave me a sad smile.

“I wish I had known the truth sooner.”

“So do I.”

I left the hotel.

When I reached home, every light downstairs was on.

Nathan was sitting at the kitchen table.

Margaret was beside him.

Neither spoke when I entered.

I placed the envelopes on the table.

Nathan looked at them.

His face changed instantly.

“What are those?”

“You tell me.”

He picked up the first envelope.

Then the second.

Then stopped when he saw mine.

His face went pale.

“Sofia…”

“Did you apply for a debt-consolidation loan?”

He said nothing.

“Using my information?”

“I didn’t.”

I pushed the letter toward him.

“Then explain this.”

He stared at it.

Margaret leaned forward.

“What is it?”

Nathan looked at her.

“Nothing.”

I laughed.

“That’s what you said about everything.”

He lowered his head.

I sat across from him.

“This is your last chance.”

He looked at me.

“Did you use my information?”

His eyes filled with tears.

“I started the application.”

The room went silent.

“You started it?”

“Yes.”

“Without telling me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“To consolidate the debt.”

“With my income.”

“Yes.”

“With my employment information.”

“Yes.”

“And you expected the loan to pay off your old debts.”

“Yes.”

I stared at him.

“How much were you trying to borrow?”

He swallowed.

“Forty thousand.”

My hands tightened around the edge of the table.

“You were trying to borrow another forty thousand dollars?”

“I thought I could make the payments.”

“With what?”

He looked at me.

“Your income.”

That answer destroyed the last bit of sympathy I had left.

Because now I finally understood.

Nathan didn’t see my paycheck as something I earned.

He saw it as something available to him.

And that was the moment I stopped thinking about how to save our marriage.

I started thinking about how to protect myself.