"Maybe you should just... not get married."
Anna said it that night, sprawled on Evalyne's couch with her hair in a messy bun, socks mismatched, face bare. She had let herself in with her key, as she always did when she sensed Evalyne was about to disappear into her own head.
"I have created a public expectation," Evalyne said, curled into the armchair opposite. She held a glass of wine she had not sipped. "I cannot simply... not fulfill it."
Anna snorted. "You are Evalyne Delaire. You create trends. You do not follow them. You can spin this."
"How," Evalyne asked. "By issuing a press release titled 'Actually, I Lied'?"
"You could say the wedding is postponed," Anna said. "You want to focus on Theresa. Or you realized you were rushing. Or you decided to prioritize self love, which i**
