ELENA
The engagement party planning had taken on a life of its own.
At first, I had thought it would be something small—something my family would allow to quietly fade as Logan and I continued to do what we had always done: exist in the strange limbo of our friendship, tied together by the momentum of our history together.
But that wasn’t what was happening.
The house had become a flurry of activity. Maids rushed down the hallways with fabric swatches for decorations. My mother had summoned our head chef to discuss the menu. My father had already sent out invitations to the most important families in our network.
And Logan—
Logan was as calm as ever.
He never pushed. Never once suggested that we set a wedding date. Instead, he smiled, offered quiet reassurances, and told me we could
