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She gave a little eye roll and a laugh at this. She wanted her audience to know that she thought it was silly too. But not silly enough to hold off on the wedding. Three months. I felt like choking. I couldn’t believe this.

“I didn’t think that Spence would be all right with all this horoscope business, but funnily enough, he thought it was a great idea. Didn’t want to wait at all! So now we are gearing up to drive our wedding planner up the wall.”

Spencer, my Spencer, who gave me a hard time if I ever referred to myself as a Virgo, was suddenly all right with Sri Lankan horoscope readers? I guess people can change after all. But then I thought about the way my stomach would tighten whenever he came home from work, the way my heart would race when he smiled at me, told me I was beautiful. Could things really change that much? We’d dated all through college. Well, college for me. He’d dropped out in his first year to focus on his start-up. But we did date for four years. Long enough to really know someone. Long enough to discover each other’s secrets.

“I have time now for just one more question. AliFlowerx3 asked where we would live after the wedding, and some of you had suggested that I would be moving back to the States with Spence after we got married. It’s a nice thought, but it won’t be the case. My family’s business, which I am actively involved in, as well as my charity, Pink Sapphires, are both run from Sri Lanka, where I intend to stay. Luckily for us, Spence has decided to take a step back from the active role in his most recent start-up for a while, until we get settled as husband and wife, at least. So he’ll be moving to Sri Lanka, and we’ll be living in my parents’ guesthouse until our own house is constructed, just down the road from my family home.”

I tried to make myself take a deep breath. It didn’t work. A shudder escaped from deep within me.

Of course Kaavi would put her charity first. When she founded Pink Sapphires two years ago, I’d thought it was a typical Colombo 07 vanity project. To my surprise, Kaavi was quite serious about it, and the organization’s mission—to provide educational opportunities for girls from low-income households—was gaining quite a reputation.

“That’s it, my lovelies. I need to start wedding planning. Oh gosh, it feels so funny to say that. Who would have thought I would be a Mrs. at the very start of the new year! And as always, if you loved hearing about my good news, please don’t forget to hit that like button and subscribe to my channel. Love and peace to all of you!”

I just sat there, staring at my laptop screen for so long that YouTube started auto-playing a clip from Say Yes to the Dress. I didn’t even have the energy to turn it off.

“Amaaayaaaa?” Jessica dragged my name out. “Hello? Are you even here?” She had a point. I had pretty much forgotten that I was still at brunch. When I wasn’t watching the video on my phone, I was replaying it in my head, over and over again.

“Sorry. I’ve just been a little preoccupied.”

I would have given my right arm to have skipped this meetup. I had actually messaged Jessica and canceled, saying I wasn’t feeling well, but she didn’t buy it—probably because I was always trying to bail on her. She showed up at my door with a bowl of soup, a cup of coffee, and some Tylenol, all of which were discarded on my kitchen counter while she shoved me into the shower and picked out my clothes while I was in there. It was forward and pushy and usually why I liked her. Someone to shake me out of my comfort zone of takeout Chinese food and a movie on my couch on Friday nights, and reading in bed on Saturday mornings. And I usually did have a good time going for brunch, or cocktails, or to some gallery opening that Jessica always seemed to be invited to.

So here I was—forcing myself to sip on overpriced mimosas and nibble on artistically plated avocado and poached eggs when my mind was ten thousand miles away, obsessing over a wedding that should never happen.

It wasn’t a terrible morning. I was just having brunch with Jessica, Deepa, and Imogen, all of whom knew one another from the spin class they took three times a week, though I only knew Jessica since she was a supplier for my store. All three women were upbeat without being too intense, friendly, and always up for a laugh. We’d been doing this lukewarm brunch routine for about a year now. The sun was shining and the breeze was light. I should be having a better time. Not constantly checking my phone to see if Kaavi had uploaded anything new.

Maybe I should just talk about it a little? Maybe I’d feel less terrible if I did? At least, that’s what Dr. Dunn said, right?

“That’ll be $33.55 each,” I heard the lady at the table next to ours tell her friends, and I took that as a sign.

I cleared my throat and looked at Jess hesitantly.

“It’s just, well, my ex–best friend is getting married. To my ex-boyfriend.”

The outpouring of horror was just as I hoped.

“No fucking way.”

“That ho.”

“Talk about being a backstabbing bitch.”

They were good friends.

“Is that why you haven’t gotten off Instagram today?” Imogen asked. This, coming from a woman who was dead set on broadcasting her entire life on social media. None of us were allowed to take a bite of our meals until she had artistically messed up the table and taken pictures of everything. It was annoying, of course, especially when our eggs got cold, but no one ever said anything, so I didn’t either. There was a time I used to daydream about her choking on her avocado toast, eyes bulging as she gasped and spluttered for air, just so she would let me eat in peace, but I’ve gotten used to the constant Instagramming now.