The Night He Forged My Signature, I Confirmed My Exchange Spot Chapter 03

The Night He Forged My Signature, I Confirmed My Exchange Spot Chapter 03

Megan wore his scarf draped over her shoulders, standing right beside him.

The photographer called out, “Closer, come on, don’t look so stiff.”

Nathan didn’t move away.

The flash went off while I stood at the far end of the second row.

My score printout had been passed around as a prop and taped to the presentation board.

But someone switched the screen to Megan’s overseas application form.

Nathan stood up. “Megan needs a designated companion sponsor. I’ve already signed as her guarantor.”

A few people looked at me with expressions I didn’t want to decode.

And finally, I understood why that withdrawal request had appeared in Chapter One.

If I confirmed my exchange slot, he’d no longer qualify as her companion sponsor.

His time, his allocation, his future—he’d already reserved it all for her.

I grabbed my bag and started for the door.

Nathan followed, voice low. “Bethany. Don’t make everyone uncomfortable.”

I turned back. “I’m not the one making this uncomfortable.”

He stared at me, a flicker of impatience crossing his face. “You never used to be like this.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but Megan ran out after us, clutching my score printout.

The corner was soaked through with a dark stain.

She blinked hard. “I’m so sorry—I accidentally spilled soda on it.”

Nathan reached over and took it from her, folding it once with a casual snap.

“It’s just a piece of paper. We’ll print another.”

I watched that crease cut across the page.

Those three hundred nights of countdowns, the exhaustion, the quiet victories—all folded like junk mail.

He handed it back to me. “Don’t cry. I’ll go with you to the registrar tomorrow to sort things out.”

I turned the paper over and noticed a faint impression on the back.

Not part of the original printout.

It was a copied signature line—from the withdrawal request attachment.

At the school registrar’s office the next morning, Nathan was already waiting by the door, holding a manila folder.

“What are you here for?” I asked.

He glanced at me. “Helping you defer your exchange. Stop fighting it.”

“I never agreed to that.”

He handed the folder to the clerk. “She was in a bad headspace last night and clicked through by mistake. Please process this withdrawal request per the attached application.”

The clerk looked at me, uncomfortable. “Bethany, Nathan mentioned your family supports this—staying local for undergrad would be a better foundation for you.”

I blinked. “My family supports it?”

Nathan avoided my eyes. “Your mom called me this morning. She said she doesn’t want you going that far alone.”

I pulled out my phone and called my mother.

She picked up fast, voice heavy with exhaustion. “Bethany, Nathan’s just looking out for you. The costs overseas are huge, and your dad’s business has been rough the last two years. Don’t be stubborn about this.”

I held the phone, not speaking.

Nathan stood beside me, tone softened. “I wasn’t trying to hide it. I just didn’t want you acting on impulse.”

My mom added, “Megan’s situation is complicated, and the Holloways offered to cover her expenses. You’ve got good grades—you’ll succeed anywhere.”

That hit harder than anything Nathan had said.

I’d always assumed my family would at least ask what I wanted.

But they’d already been convinced.

The clerk cleared her throat. “Bethany, deferring isn’t the same as giving up. There’s always next year.”

I looked at the papers on the desk. “Will this exact exchange slot still be available next year?”

The clerk went silent.

Nathan answered for her. “There are more paths than just one. Don’t limit yourself to just one option.”

I said, quietly, “Who’s limiting who?”

Megan came running down the hall, arms full of documents.

She froze when she saw me. “Bethany. You’re here too.”

Nathan smoothly took the stack from her. “Slow down. You’ll trip.”

She whispered, “I just turned in my medical form, but they said I’m missing a consent-to-adjustment addendum.”

The clerk flipped through the folder. “Nathan, the signature on Bethany’s withdrawal letter from yesterday is a little smudged. We need her to re-confirm in person.”

Nathan’s face shifted, barely perceptible.

I looked at him. “Yesterday?”

He placed a pen beside my hand. “Just re-sign it. Don’t hold everyone up.”

I didn’t move.

The clerk’s expression sharpened. “This wasn’t submitted by Bethany herself?”