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Fifty-Five † Cold Shoulder

The civil, formal, and detached version of Calix was way worse than any post-argument treatment Kat had ever experienced, and that was saying a lot.

Even now, after a couple of hours had passed, she still couldn't believe how quickly everything had gotten out of hand. It was a marvel, really, how she'd managed to destroy their bond in one blow. Now, he was giving her exactly what she'd asked for, which was space, and she hated every single moment of it. His curt, aloof manner not only translated into direct stabs to her heart, but also fuels to her already heightened anxiety about the wedding.

Oh, God. The wedding.

The thought of it alone made her whole body tingle with both anticipation and dread.

Anticipation because she would see all her friends again, and dread because they all probably thought she was gone for good. Imagine having received an invitation a month late. A month. She wouldn't actually be surprised if they replaced her already—

"Fuck," Kat blurted out, dropping her for
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