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FORTY NINE

KAREN

In the evening, I met up with my friend Juliana, living in Pennsylvania. We grew up together and went to the same junior school.

"You look so pretty, Keran," she praised.

"Thank you," I replied.

"But you are not a good friend; you haven't asked about me, your best friend, for a long time. I was really missing you. And, oh yes, tell me, do you have a boyfriend or a fiancé now?" she asked.

"Non, but I am married," I answered.

"Oh my, how come? What about Wigan? You know he loves you," she exclaimed.

"What Wigan? That local thug. Don't mention him again," I scolded.

"But he really loves you; he is such a perfect man and comes from a wealthy family. I heard his family runs a diaper company, and they make lots of money every year. You should see how he changes cars," Juliana insisted.

I was amused. Diaper company? That's bullshit. Anyone from Devon's company could buy all his family

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