The heavy glass doors of the registry opened with a creak, and the two women stepped inside. The room felt sterile—fluorescent lights, drab walls, the hum of computers. The faint sound of typing echoed through the space, broken only by the occasional murmur of clerks answering questions at their desks. Lisa's throat tightened, her stomach twisting into knots.
Estabel wasted no time. She strode up to the counter, catching the attention of a middle-aged clerk with tired eyes. He looked up slowly from his screen, his expression indifferent as he watched them approach.
"Good afternoon," Estabel said firmly. "We're here to retrieve a marriage certificate."
The clerk barely blinked. He glanced at Estabel, then shifted his gaze to Lisa, who stood just behind her, looking pale and anxious.
"Names?" the clerk asked, his voice flat as if this was just another routine request.
