The hours stretched on, each tick of the clock amplifying the tension. I had always trusted my spouse with our finances; it was part of the unspoken agreement, a trust built over years of partnership. Yet here I was, grappling with the realization that I had been left in the dark.
I decided to call the tax advisor again, hoping for some clarity. The phone rang a few times before a voice answered, formal and efficient. “Mr. Langley’s office, how can I assist you?”
“Hi, this is Alex. We spoke yesterday about some issues with my joint tax return,” I said, striving for professionalism despite the turmoil within.
“Yes, of course. How can we help further?” the assistant replied, her tone neutral.
“I need to understand the extent of these ‘discrepancies’. Can you provide a more detailed breakdown?” I asked, my pen poised over a notepad.
“Certainly, let me pull up the file,” she said, a brief pause followed by the click of keys. “It seems there are several accounts under your spouse’s name, some with outstanding balances not previously disclosed.”
I jotted down the information, each word a small jigsaw piece in a puzzle I never wanted to assemble. The assistant’s explanation was methodical, devoid of judgment, yet the implications were clear.
“Thank you,” I said, the words feeling inadequate. “I’ll need to discuss this further at home.”
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