Anna and Jonathan: The Arranged Marriage
She moved through the crowd with the particular ease of a woman who had spent her entire life in rooms exactly like this one, a deep burgundy gown, hair swept back, every detail calibrated for maximum effect.
Jonathan noticed her a half second after I did, his hand finding mine automatically, and I felt him straighten slightly beside me, the same careful readiness I remembered from the earliest, most brutal press encounters of this past year, though tonight it felt different, less like bracing for an attack and more like two people standing deliberately shoulder to shoulder.
"Jonathan," she said, arriving at last, her voice warm in a way that felt entirely performed. "You look well. Motherho
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