Anya froze the moment the words left her mouth.
She hadn't intended to say it—or at least, not right now.
But Anya wasn't the type of girl to swallow her grievances. She did what she wanted, when she wanted. Since she'd said it, there was no taking it back.
She stared into Elizabeth's eyes, then let out a soft snort—a sound that was half contempt, half misery.
"Why did it have to be you?" Her voice was soft, and she wasn't even looking at Elizabeth as she spoke.
Elizabeth opened her mouth. She had already prepared her excuses, in fact—long before she had even received the invitation to Anya's birthday party.
She was like a clumsy thief who had snuck into someone's home, constantly braced for the moment she would be discovered.
But as she looked into Anya's eyes, the words she had prepared died on her lips.
There was no anger in Anya's eyes, not even resentment.
