The second I got back to the hotel, the Youth Arts Center staffer in charge of registrations called. My nerves snapped tight, and I kept chanting in my head: Please let it be good news.

The moment I answered, my heart skipped a beat. “Hello…”

“The man who came with you to the Youth Arts Center today isn’t your husband. You don’t have a child! Your only purpose was to meet Professor Holmes!”

Their tone was furious.

It felt like ...