She hadn’t planned to take the microphone. She hadn’t planned, really, to do any of this. When he had told her, two weeks ago, she had seen no other route forward than the one they had already laid. Marriage, still, to him, had been the best thing for her. It was absurd to think that she could tell people, share how he had failed, how she had. She could not disclose how her fiancé, her house, her life, were not so delicious after all.
