Two pronunciation horrors for you to ponder; both somewhat French!
An old teacher, long retired, once told me she'd taught a girl whom she addressed on the first day of school by the name of
Yvonne (which according to the list was indeed her name) and the kid didn't respond. On investigation, she'd grown up in a tiny, isolated village with no cinema within range and very bad radio reception. Mother must have read a book, though, and liked the name
Yvonne enough to use ... but her best guess was Why-Vonny and that was what the kid firmly believed her name really was. Nothing and nobody could change her mind, so they all stoically called her Why-Vonny for ever after.
And my mother came home from work one day looking like a dog with water in its ears and muttering something under her breath. Not her usual behaviour. It turned out that she'd been in a meeting where one of the participants introduced herself confidently as Hell-Oyz. Mum's French was rusty but not so rusty she couldn't spot
Heloise!
So, yes, Two-Syllable
Anais could well have been in the same situation. In today's world there's no excuse except laziness, but lots of people are either lazy or, let's say, over-confident. Or both.