My aunt, who is a judge, insisted that I sign a prenuptial agreement before getting married. At the time, I didn’t understand why. But I listened to her anyway.

I laughed and told her that Brandon was not like that, and that he did not care about my apartment or my savings, because he was kind and hardworking.

She did not argue, she just said, “I hope you are right, but if you are, he will not mind signing it.”

That sentence stayed in my head all night, and the next day I talked to Brandon about it.

At first he looked uncomfortable, but then he smiled and said, “If it helps you feel better, we will do it, I have nothing to hide.”

That answer made me feel relieved, so we went to a notary in Bellevue and signed the agreement, which clearly stated that everything we owned before marriage would stay separate, and any important financial decisions would need both of us to agree in writing.

I left feeling a bit silly for worrying, and I even called my aunt joking that I had followed her advice.

She just said, “Good, now pay attention.”

I did not understand what she meant until the next day.

Brandon’s mother, Linda Whitaker, invited me for coffee near the Fremont area, saying she wanted to talk alone.

I thought we would talk about the wedding, or guests, or small details, but the conversation changed quickly.