Alberta's name slowly became a familiar sound in our house.
Not because I wanted it to.
Because somehow, she kept finding her way into our conversations.
"Alberta said…"
"Alberta brought…"
"Alberta called…"
"Alberta asked…"
At first, I ignored it.
I told myself it was normal.
They were colleagues.
They worked in the same school.
They saw each other almost every day.
But eventually, the frequency became impossible to ignore.
There were the calls.
Then the messages.
Then the food.
Then the excuses for staying after work.
And gradually, something else changed.
James stopped seeing me immediately after work.
That was what hurt the most.
Before, once school closed, he would find a way to come to me.
Sometimes he would arrive tired.
Sometimes hungry.
Sometimes frustrated about something that had happened at school.
But he came.
Now, there were days when I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Then he would finally appear much later.
I started asking questions.
"Why did you come this late?"
"School."
"What happened?"
"Nothing serious."
Sometimes I accepted the answer.
Sometimes I didn't.
One evening, I finally asked directly.
"Is Alberta the reason you don't come straight here anymore?"
He became quiet.
Then he sighed.
"She has been disturbing me."
I stared at him.
"Then why are you allowing her to disturb you?"
"I've told you. I can't control her."
"You can control yourself."
He looked at me.
"I know."
"Then what is keeping you there?"
"Nothing."
His answer came too quickly.
I looked away.
I wanted to believe him.
I truly did.
But there was a difference between hearing someone's words and feeling reassured by them.
His words were no longer reassuring me.
I asked him again to block her number.
He refused.
"I can't do that."
"Why?"
"Because we work together."
"You can block a personal number and still work professionally."
"It's not that simple."
"Then make it simple."
He shook his head.
I became frustrated.
"What exactly are you afraid of?"
"Nothing."
"Then block her."
He remained silent.
That silence told me more than his words.
I felt something crack inside me.
Not completely.
Just a small crack.
But it was there.
I didn't want to control who he spoke to.
I didn't want to be that woman.
But I also didn't want to sit quietly while another woman slowly became more important in his life.
Then one day, James told me Alberta had brought him food again.
I forced a smile.
"You didn't ask her to?"
"No."
"But you ate it?"
He looked at me.
"What was I supposed to do?"
I shrugged.
"I don't know."
He sighed.
"She keeps bringing herself."
That sentence became his defense for everything.
She keeps bringing herself.
She keeps calling.
She keeps texting.
She keeps disturbing me.
But I began wondering something.
If she was really doing all those things against his wishes, why didn't he create stronger boundaries?
Why was he still responding?
Why was he still accepting the food?
Why was he still allowing the communication?
Why was he staying around after work?
The questions frightened me.
Then came the excursion.
The school organized an outing for the teachers and students.
James had planned to attend.
At least, that was what I understood.
But somehow, he didn't go.
He chose to spend time with me instead.
I was happy.
For a moment, I felt like I had gotten him back.
We spent time together, talked, laughed, and forgot about everything else.
Then later, I learned that Alberta had become angry because James hadn't gone to the excursion.
That surprised me.
Why would she be angry?
She wasn't his wife.
She wasn't his family.
She wasn't even someone he was supposed to report his movements to.
Yet somehow, his absence affected her enough for her to become angry.
When I asked James about it, he laughed.
"She was angry because I didn't go."
I looked at him.
"Why does she care?"
He shrugged.
"I don't know."
I didn't believe him.
Maybe he didn't know.
Maybe he did.
Either way, I didn't like it.
Something had changed.
And the more I observed, the more uncomfortable I became.
There was a strange familiarity developing between them.
She knew when he was coming.
She knew when he wasn't.
She knew what he liked to eat.
She knew how to reach him.
She knew how to get his attention.
And James knew exactly who she was whenever his phone rang.
I tried not to compare myself with her.
But sometimes, comparison happens without permission.
I wondered whether she was becoming the person he thought about when he was at work.
I wondered whether she was the reason his attention seemed different.
I wondered whether I was slowly losing him without even realizing it.
Then something worse happened.
He stopped telling me everything.
Before, if Alberta said something strange, he would tell me.
If she called repeatedly, he would mention it.
If she sent an unusual message, he would tell me.
Now, I had to ask.
And even when I asked, he sometimes said,
"It's nothing."
Those two words became the wall between us.
It's nothing.
But if it was nothing, why was it suddenly being hidden?
I didn't know.
And that uncertainty was beginning to hurt more than the truth would have.
I could feel him pulling away.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
His attention was becoming divided.
His conversations were shorter.
His explanations were fewer.
His phone became something he guarded.
And whenever Alberta's name appeared, his behavior changed.
I noticed.
Of course I noticed.
I just didn't know what to do with what I was noticing.
I was afraid that if I asked too many questions, he would accuse me of being jealous.
If I stayed quiet, I was afraid I would regret it.
So I remained somewhere in between.
Watching.
Waiting.
Hoping.
And slowly becoming afraid.