I've discovered there are circles of hell Dante never wrote about.
Like sitting in your sister's future in-laws' estate while she picks out flowers for her wedding to the man who knotted you three times in one night.
"Runze? Hello?" Feifei waves fabric swatches in front of my face. "Earth to my brother, ivory or champagne?"
I blink at her, trying to focus, trying to care about tablecloths when all I can think about is the fact that the man she's marrying fucked me in a bathroom two weeks ago.
"Um. Champagne?"
Feifei beams. "I thought so too! It'll complement the flowers perfectly."
We're in some parlor that's bigger than our entire dining room, surrounded by wedding planners and decorators. Grandmother Wuchen sits in a chair near the window, observing everything with her sharp eyes. Mother is taking notes frantically, trying to keep up.
And Bael is standing near the fireplace, supposedly reviewing contracts, but I can feel his eyes on me.
