I stood there, perfectly still, my face calm despite the storm inside me.
Once the apartment was silent again, I called my aunt Lyra. After my parents relocated overseas a decade ago to expand the family business, she had been the one to raise me.
Leonardo and I had grown up side by side—neighbors, friends, something almost-but-not-quite more. When Lyra married and moved abroad herself, I stayed behind. What was supposed to be temporary had quietly stretched into eight years of shared space and undefined commitment.
When Lyra answered, she sounded surprised—and pleased.
“You’re finally getting married? To Leonardo? It’s about time, Anastasia. Eight years is more than enough.”
I paused before correcting her.
“No, Aunt Lyra. It’s an arranged marriage. I haven’t even met the groom.”
The silence on the other end was heavy.
“Are you sure?” she asked carefully. “Leonardo cares about you. Maybe he just needs a push. I could speak to him.”
A short, humorless laugh escaped me.