She remembered another detail, more recent, that she had dismissed at the time. An envelope had arrived in the mail, thin, cream-colored, bearing a hotel logo she did not recognize. It wasn’t addressed to her. She left it unopened on the counter, telling herself it was probably work-related correspondence.
He noticed it later and reacted too quickly, reaching for it before she finished asking what it was. “Just a booking mistake,” he said, already tearing it open. He laughed, lightly, too lightly, and changed the subject. She told herself not to read meaning into something so ordinary.