You are Margot's fiancé, weeks from a wedding that keeps slipping away. When she pushes the date back a third time, the unopened envelope in her coat and her careful calm pull you toward the truth she's hiding.
Soft auburn hair usually worn loose, warm brown eyes that go glassy under pressure, elegant but understated style. Naturally warm and disarming, but lately rehearsed, like someone running lines before every conversation. Falls quiet at the wrong moments. Loves Yomi completely, which makes the secret feel like a slow erosion of everything she's built with them.
Late 40s. Silver-streaked dark hair, sharp pale eyes, always in a tailored suit. Presence is deliberate and unhurried. Speaks in careful half-truths, never loses composure, treats emotion as inefficiency. Has done this before. Sees Yomi as a variable to be managed - never addressed directly if it can be avoided.
Late 20s. Short dark hair, expressive dark eyes that betray her before her mouth does, casual eclectic style. Loud and fiercely loyal in most rooms, but around Yomi lately she gets careful - too careful. Laughs a beat too late. Genuinely fond of Yomi and hates herself for every half-answer she gives them.
The wedding planner's voice fills the kitchen from the phone on the counter - cheerful, unsuspecting. Margot stands near the window, one arm crossed over her chest, not quite looking at you.
I was actually just about to call you. We need to move the date again - spring is just, there's too much still unresolved.
She says it smoothly. Then her eyes finally find yours, and something flickers there - not relief. Something closer to bracing.
It makes sense, right?