Fiona was not looking for it.
That was the thing she would keep coming back to afterward, in the way you returned to the small details of moments that had hit you harder than you expected. She had not been scrolling for news about Martin. She had not been searching his name or following any of the industry accounts that covered Voss Éclat with the breathless regularity of people who treated corporate beauty as a spectator sport. She had been looking for a recipe. A specific lemongrass soup her mother made that she had been craving for three days and had finally decided to attempt herself, and she had been sitting on her couch with her phone in one hand and a cup of ginger tea going warm in the other, and the alert had simply appeared at the top of her screen the way alerts did, uninvited and indifferent to timing.
Martin Mole and Katherine Thorne to Wed This Saturday in Exclusive Ceremony.
She read it once.
