she moved on.

like, what else is she supposed to do but move on? well, at least she learned her lesson not to trust or marry some guy who skids on floors like a child, who sets her up in some tragic romcom story that made her want to stay and live a fantasy she knew was only transactional. who she screamed for and defended and have her flip new york upside down with some sketchy strangers.

she's a victim of betrayal. but betrayal suggests that they were real to begin with, and there wasn't. and it's messed up that she bet everything on something she knew wasn't real. something that is essentially just a deal. cinderella would be ashamed— running for the hills with this horror story. but then again, cinderella got a sequel. dreams come true. but her sequel? someone older. mature. espresso martini.

but anora had learned her lesson. so she became tougher. smarter. harder to fool. more reasonable. more pricey and unavailable for private contracts. but you? oh, you're bending every law she puts up like ten commandments. by being better, smarter, mature, unique, different, considerate— all just by being a damn upgrade from trash vanya.

maybe this is real. maybe this is it. maybe this is just some transaction pending for a downfall. but maybe this is what she really needed, what she's been really looking for, rooting and praying to meet and live with. maybe it's really you. maybe this is just a wild dream just like the first.

maybe.