𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐧 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 is far from perfect. Before starting her senior year of college, she's already guaranteed her position as the black sheep of her once prestigious family. To make matters worse, she took up bedding the rival family's eldest...
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𝑶𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒌, Evelyn leaned into her studies and extracurriculars with focus that was unprecedented for her. Seeing as her frazzled mind was determined to fixate on the aftermath of her date with Michael, it was her only method of coping. The way things ended—or the way she now felt about him—left a caustic taste of despondence on her tongue, and she disliked it all that much more because she'd rather it have been the taste of his mouth.
The entire ordeal was a perfectly-crafted dilemma. So often lately, she'd turned to Michael or thoughts of him whenever she was in any sort of discomfort. Now that he was her source of stress, she had to seek a peace of mind elsewhere. Not knowing the destination at first, she was pleasantly surprised to learn that another place for peace was within herself.
There were two versions of Evelyn, really: one was the version of her that she'd worked hard to leave with Jackie, and the other version was the one that had willingly engaged in conversation with strangers and gotten tipsy on her date with Michael. The latter was the one she was discovering more of day by day.
That Evelyn didn't seem to be so fraught with the worry she would lose her connection with the man she'd grown attached to. She could go out, she could wear whatever she wanted, and the landline was no longer her ball and chain; she didn't feel the need to sit by the phone with the fear that her missing his call would precede another woman's presence. And that was the benefit of going through as much as she had with Michael. She was shown that no matter what happened between them, he would remain by her side just as steadfast and caring as he had the last, which was so wonderfully freeing.
At the same time, pieces of the more tried version of herself lived on. The pieces of her that still wanted to question everything, the ones that wanted to sprint in the other direction and board up her heart at the faintest hint of trouble stubbornly remained through all of Michael's careful priming couldn't be erased. One man had made sure of it.
After returning home from shopping with Mariah, Evelyn was made to face that man. The girlish joy she experienced from spending all afternoon under bright department store lights and browsing an assortment of a gorgeous, vibrant rainbow of different gowns was drained from her, replaced by a deliberate nothingness upon laying eyes on Yonas Wright. He sat in the living room recliner with his scraggly chin over his fist while his other hand rested between pages of the Garima Gospels, his pinpointed abyss of a stare making her freeze in her tracks at the front door.
Evelyn glanced longingly between her father and the hallway. She wished with all her being that she could somehow teleport past the recliner and reappear in the safer confines of her bedroom. But her mother wasn't home. Saturdays were for the women's fellowship lunches at the church—the ones she routinely skipped.
Keen to not taking a beating when her brand new outfit for the superlative awards was still in her hands, she held back her expression and evened her voice. "Hello, Ābati¹." ¹ ᴬᵐʰᵃʳᶦᶜ ᶠᵒʳ "ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ"
