The Night He Forged My Signature, I Confirmed My Exchange Spot Chapter 04

The Night He Forged My Signature, I Confirmed My Exchange Spot Chapter 04

Nathan kept his voice smooth. “She asked me to drop it off last night. Might’ve forgotten.”

Megan jumped in fast. “Bethany, you’re not refusing because of me, are you? I’m not trying to steal your opportunity.”

Nathan cut her off. “Megan. You don’t have to explain.”

I picked up the paper.

The signature read “Bethany Krause.”

The strokes looked a lot like mine.

But the last tail on the “e” dipped downward—that was Nathan’s habit.

Back in freshman year, he’d rewritten one of my detention essays because he said my handwriting was too soft, that I didn’t close my letters with enough force.

I used to tease him for being so controlling.

Turns out, remembering someone’s handwriting means you can also use it to erase their future.

I folded the sheet and tucked it into my bag. “I’m keeping a copy of this.”

Nathan reached out to stop me. “Bethany. Don’t turn this into something complicated.”

I looked at him. “What’s complicated—the forged signature, or the fact that I won’t go along with it?”

His jaw tightened. “I said I’ll come back for you after one year. Why do you have to make this a fight?”

Megan’s eyes started to water again. “I’ll go to the office myself and give up the slot.”

Nathan’s voice went flat. “You don’t have to pay for her attitude.”

The clerk pushed the folder back across the counter. “If the student doesn’t consent, we’re not processing this today.”

Nathan stood still for a long moment, then gathered the folder. “Then we’ll settle it at the administrative conference this afternoon.”

I stiffened. “What administrative conference?”

He met my gaze, patience finally cracking. “The school’s finalizing the exchange roster. Both families will be there. You should let your mom stop worrying.”

He turned and walked out.

A thin sheet slipped from his folder as he moved.

I bent down and picked it up.

It was a supplementary form for overseas companion sponsorship.

[Sponsored student: Megan Ashford.]

Under “Reason for Sponsorship,” it read: [Chronic emotional dependency; requires familiar companion for stabilization.]

Then another line below:

[Previously used Bethany Krause as a temporary emotional substitute. Now requires restoration of original attachment relationship.]

I stared at that sentence, my chest tightening like a fist had closed around it.

I took a photo and saved it to my email.

Nathan came to pick me up that afternoon. His car was idling at the school parking lot, and a light blue jacket sat on the passenger seat.

I opened the back door instead.

He watched me in the rearview mirror. “Sit up front. Don’t act like I’m mistreating you.”

I looked at the jacket. “Megan’s.”

He paused, then reached over and tossed it to the back seat. “She left it. You never used to mind things like that.”

“I didn’t know better back then.”

Nathan started the engine, voice dropping lower. “Bethany, you made things really difficult for me at the registrar today.”

I asked, “Did you forge that signature?”

His fingers tightened on the wheel. “I just took away an unnecessary hesitation.”

“Calling it ‘taking away a hesitation’ doesn’t change what it was.”

His tone remained clipped. “Don’t make it sound so serious. The withdrawal hasn’t even been finalized.”

I opened my phone.

An email from the exchange office had landed:

[If the student submits an appeal before the deadline, confirmation eligibility may be restored.]

The clock showed forty-seven minutes left.

I set the phone face-down on my knee. “Nathan. What if I confirmed my exchange right now?”