'Why don't you wear something red today? I think you look pretty in red. Exotic. You should look pretty today.' Maria tried to be nonchalant, as I fretted in front of my neatly lined closet. 

Ruby likes to neurotically arrange my clothes according to hues and textures. Honed by habit, my hands keep reaching towards the more subdued colors, but Maria's not having any of that. 

'It's just a date with Shay, sis. HE isn't going to be there, so you can get off my case.' I rolled my eyes at my older sister. 

'So what, you're only going to dress up for him now?' Maria quirked a brow, 'Where's my Don't Need No Man-Laylee?' 

'Dork.' I muttered out loud, caving in to her suggestion, and choosing a pretty red lace Kurti to wear with my traiditonal pants. 'I miss Zaif. He should have been here yesterday.'

My sister hugged me from behind, planting a kiss on the top of my head, stroking my arms to comfort me, the best way she knows how. I hugged her back. 

Zaif had been shifted to Dad's Islamabad residence for more privacy, while Dad negotiated for his release from the house arrest. Apparently, Musa and his family were refusing to accept money for the damages, insisting instead on a complete humiliation of my brother, through trial after trial, press conference, after press conference. They were turning one heated moment of anger, into a war against Privileged tyranny. The Media was helping to fuel the fire, by talking about "Making an example" out of my brother, to "Fight the arrogant elite class" and their "Disregard for the rule of Pakistani Law".

The irony of it just about killed me. That Musa, the world's biggest privileged criminal example, was claiming the higher moral ground here.

'By the way. You got another flower delivery. Ruby arranged it in the foyer' Maria flicked a non-existent speck of dust from my Kurti. 

I flushed with pleasure when I contemplated Azaan's sweet gesture. This was the sixth day in a row, that I had received the huge bouquet of fresh cut flowers. 

'Lilies?' I asked eagerly. 

'Nope. Roses again.'  

I tamped down the disappointment when I realized that he had likely forgotten my favorite. It's the thought that counts, Layla. I reminded myself severely. Doesn't matter if roses actually make me want to hurl. It just shows how much he thinks about me!

 I made a mental note to thank him with something edible later. 

After we made up, it was impossible for Azaan and I to stay away from each other. We couldn't concentrate on work, and the drama surrounding my life. He kept popping up in my offices to steal from my snacks cabinet, insisting that my Lays packets tasted better than the ones his office has. 

He'd text me funny memes that he makes of people around his workplace. 

He'd call me in the middle of meetings, insisting that I take a pee-break. Then he'd drag me to the terrace garden below our floor, just to show me a garden patch, where someone had spelled out a rude word with burnt-out cigarette butts. 

Azaan just had a lot of himself to share. 

Not that I minded in the least! 

You see, we had a lot of catching up to do: Stories to tell. Ideas to exchange. Fights to fight. 

I always crack up when I remember the time he called me up when I was visiting some of my lawyers in Islamabad. 

"Hey, have you changed your relationship status on Facebook yet?" he asked out of the blue, making me drop my phone with shock. 

"What even?" I muttered, whispering to avoid letting Fahad hear my distress. "No I haven't Azaan! What exactly am I supposed to change it to?" 

"How about, In a relationship with the Sexiest Man Alive?" 

"Don't be ridiculous." I snorted, "I haven't even met Ryan Gosling in person." 

He tutted disappointed, "What exactly do women find attractive about that man?" 

"Women, and People's Magazine." I reminded him. "If you had ovaries, and you had seen The Noteboook, you won't have to ask me." 

"Oh I have seen it. I have three sisters, remember? I just don't see the big deal. His character was so weak in that movie. Freaking pathetic..." 

"It was romantic, Azaan!" I argued, "He waited so long for the right person. Don't you think he is kind of like you?" I bit back a smile, dreaming about Azaan with Gosling's blonde god looks and that sexy mountain man beard, just waiting for my Rachel McAdams to come around... 

"Romantic? What the hell is romantic about building a  house for some chick, in hopes that she would come back to him?" He is rolling his eyes, and I know it, because I know him. 

"Uh...everything?" I giggled. 

He muttered something about irrational standards. "Whatever. I am so much better than Nigel." 

"His name was NOAH, and You are totally like him! Even you built me an office suite, so I'd come back to you!" 

"Layla. The office suite would have been yours, regardless of your forgiveness, because I actually did it to help you with Hiraeth-not to win you back-although I am really glad that it worked anyways....But this man's girl was engaged to another man. Do you have any idea what I would have done in the same situation?" His voice lowered over the phone, and I relished every deep note of it. 

"What? You would have killed my fiance or something? clubbed me on the head, and dragged me to your cave?" 

"Naw. You know  I don't like blood...I simply would have told the man's mother that you were into girls." He quips back. I hear the telltale rip of a cellophane paper, and I know that he is munching on sour punk candy. "It would have neatly ended your engagement quicker than you can say HiddleSwift. Hence, I am better than that pansy-ass douche, because good old Nicolas was obviously very comfortable with the idea of losing his woman to another man. I don't think I could have been that complacent. I would have tried my very best to wreck your stupid relationship, because I know that nobody in the world can make you happy the way I do." 

"You're awful." I informed him. "And not romantic like Noah, at all..."  the smile on my face probably turning into a blush that would likely freak Fahad out (Not that I cared a whip)

"I love you too." came the arrogant reply.

I spent the rest of the day holed up in musty government offices without WiFi. At night, when I finally crashed in the hotel room I was staying at, my phone very nearly exploded. 

534 Notifications on Facebook. 

I quickly checked through my profile in alarm. 

It seemed like I had recently changed my relationship status. 

My tired eyes bugged out with surprise when I saw the tiny red heart next to my name, under the super cliched and asinine heading: "It's Complicated". 

SON OF A BISCUIT! 

It even had like 470 likes...

I laugh-groaned with agony as I went through the hundreds of curious comments on that status, comments from friends, family, and colleagues. 

Pareeshae Sayeed: "AYYY! I think I know how to Un-Complicate this! @M. Azaan Malik. *Wink Face*" 

Maria Hayat: "WTF Layls?" 

Faris Maniar: "Real mature, jackass. @M. Azaan Malik. *Eye roll Emoji*....Wanna play Call Of Duty this weekend?" 

Syeda Kulsoom Khatoon: "LOL. (LOBTS OF LUOVE) #MASHALLAQUWATTAILLABILLAH. MNICE PUICTURRE ONM PROFIOLE DEASR FTW!." *Monkey Emoji* *Purple Heart Emoji* *Lobster Emoji*

Ruby Victor: " *Heart Emoji* My Baby!" 

Daniyal Maniar: "Err...not sure if this is a troll, so congratz JIC, Layla!" 

Asad Ali: "I'm hurt. I thought I was the only1 4 U...*Heartbreak Emoji*" 

Omer Hanif: "I sense troll. Nice one, Malik..." 

Juwariya Rehman: "Yay?" 

Fahad Qureshi: "Shall I draft a sample announcement email from your side?"

M. Azaan Malik: "Who's the lucky guy? *Smirk Emoji*" 

I gasped with indignation when I saw that at least 50 people had liked his random comment. 

Gritting my teeth, I deleted the offending post without commenting on it. I couldn't even imagine wading through all the wall posts on my timeline at this time of night. My fingers flew over the screen as I contemplated calling him up to give him a piece of my mind for this stunt. But then I remembered that he had a presentation for a client the next day, and probably needed was sleep. 

I texted angrily instead. 

Me: AZAAN MALIK, U R SO FUCKING DEAD!!!!!!!!

He responded almost immediately. 

Him: Someone needs their happy pills. :)

I growled with frustration. 

Me: I AM SERIOUS! I AM SO ANGRY RIGHT NOW, I WANT TO KISS U!

Him: Woah. Feeling Haraam much?

Him: Let's wait for after we get married babe. Okay? 

Me: **KILT. 

Me: **KILL!!!!!FFS!

Me: Uggggggh! Stupid Autocorrect!

Him: Suuure. Let's blame it on Autocorrect... *Smirk Emoji*

I sighed, deciding to call him up instead. 

"Azaan you know I'm not comfortable telling people about us yet. Why would you do this to me?" 

"Aww! Nightlife! I swear I was just having some fun! The whole thing is such a cliche, It was an obvious troll! nobody believed it...It's just that I missed annoying you today..." 

"I missed you too, but dammit now my sister thinks something fishy is going on! And I am so self conscious about it, because honestly, I don't know where we stand right now....And how on earth did I become friends with your Dadi?" I asked exasperatedly. 

He is quiet for a heartbeat. 

"What do you mean you don't know where we stand?" 

"I mean that I don't know what to call Us. I know I want to be with you in the future, but it's not like we're official..." I hesitated. I didn't want to pressure him into popping the question. He ought to propose in his own good time. But meanwhile, our relationship truly was Complicated. 

"Baby. We shared donuts. It's official. Okay?" He answered flatly. 

"So what? are you asking me to ma--" 

"Nope. Nope. Nope. You'll know for sure, when I ask that. Don't ruin it for yourself. And err...check your inbox. I want to un-complicate some things." He interrupted quickly before hanging up. 

And then when he mentioned that his mother wanted to meet with mine, he was so adorably awkward about it on text, that I couldn't help falling a little bit more in love with him. 

.........

We had a casual meetup of the two families, as soon as Mama was discharged from her post-op treatments. 

Maybe it was the illness that softened her up, or the heartfelt talk we had the other day, but my mother was at her gentlest, most gracious self when she met Aliyah Auntie (Azaan's Ma) and Azeem Uncle (His Dad). Not once did she grill Azaan, or throw thinly veiled insults at him, like I had fully prepared him for. She was very humble and down-to-earth, brushing off the awestruck compliments she was getting from Azaan's mother and sisters for our home.

"Why didn't you bring Kulsoom Dadi along? I miss her!" I whispered to Azaan while he'd excused himself from the excited chatter of the drawing room, under the pretense of being thirsty. "She is the only reason I forgave you, anyways." 

It wasn't. I forgave him, because I was selfish. Because sometimes, forgiveness is selfish. It's what you need to find peace. And after years and years; I was at peace. 

He glared at me for a second before making a face, "I totally planned to actually, but Dadi's off traveling right now, visiting her youngest brother. His son-my Uncle-lost his wife recently recently. He has like three young kids, and they're in bad shape right now..."

Shocked, I recited the prayer for the dead. 

"Was she old?" I asked conversationally, "Why didn't you go with Dadi to meet him?" 

"Nah! My Uncle is dad's youngest cousin. He is barely a few years older than us, so I assume his wife was almost our age, if not a couple of years older. It was some complication during her pregnancy apparently. Some autoimmune disease....And I wanted to go, but the guy isn't very sociable at the moment. He is barely tolerating Kulsoom Dadi as it is. I think he just wants to mourn in peace." 

"Well. I'm sure that Dadi will help cheer him up." I smiled forcefully, even though I realized that nothing could ever replace the haunting loss of a loved one, "Remember when you got hit by that ball, and lost all memory?She made me laugh, even when she was worried sick herself. "

"Yeah. I totally remember when I lost my memory." Azaan rolled his eyes. 

"I was really scared then." I reminisced softly, "I thought you'd never be able to remember me. Or stop calling me Shahnaz." 

His eyes crinkled around the corners as he smiled, making my heart flutter.

"I'd never forget you, Nightlife. Not after a million football injuries."

'Well, he can forget you now, until he proves to me that he isn't going to make you cry again.' Maria interrupted our moment then, with shameless ease. 'Go on. Tell him that.' 

Azaan whipped his head around to watch her angry hand movements curiously. 

Maria had let me know in very blunt terms that she wasn't excited about me and Azaan. She still remembered that night I wept out my soul in front of her, and that kind of memory is apparently hard for a sister to forget. Especially a sister as protective as mine. 

This is the worst part about crying to your loved ones about your significant other. They don't know him like you do. And they sure as hell don't love him like you either. And maybe that's why they can't forgive him, like you can.

Maria has been her friendly self with his family, but it seems like my sister has a bone to pick with Azaan. 

"Well. Maria says that-" I started awkwardly.

"That she won't let us be together unless I prove to her that I won't make you cry again." Azaan interjected calmly. 

I stared dumbfounded at him. 

"Since when do you know Sign?" I asked numbly. 

'I'm taking an online course.' He grinned at Maria, as he signed haltingly.'We'll probably be around each other a lot--just wanted to be able to talk to you directly. I had to ask you something. But before that; I want you to know that I will make your sister cry a lot. So can't promise that I won't."

My eyebrows shot up at this. He better have a good conclusion, to this premise, or Maria will legit make him miserable.

'I'm going to make her cry with happiness when we marry, and she sees how good I look in a Sherwani,' Azaan winked at me, 'Then I'll make her cry with exasperation when I eat all of her snacks instead of my own. And I was thinking that she might shed some more tears when I make her laugh so much that she starts doing that speechless-flapping-hands-penguin thing that I find adorable...' 

Heart in my throat, and almost-tears in my eyes, I laughed when I saw the waddling motion he made to depict penguins, instead of spelling out the word. What he lacked in Sign Vocabulary; he made up for with creativity.  

My sister's eyes were bugging out at Azaan's casual use of her language. She loves it when people converse with her directly, instead of relying on translators like me. But I didn't anticipate her reaction.

A teary gurgle of joy escaped Maria, as she laughed out loud. 'THAT serious about her, are you? Mr. Azzy The Awesome?" 

'Oh God. Did she tell you every lame thing I ever did?' Azaan groaned jokingly, craning his head back to shake his head at me. His movements were slow, and he paused on a few words now and then, but it was obvious that he'd been really working hard on learning it. 

I was just too overwhelmed to form words; both verbal and non-verbal. 

Every time I worried that I wouldn't be able to love him after what he did to me, he went ahead and made me fall even deeper. 

Watching him make my sister laugh and smile, was everything I ever wanted from him. Not the fancy office space, and the gym equipment. Not even the sweet photographs, and the 'sorry' gifts he had piled on me before. It was this; these simple, unannounced ways in which he proved that he cared for me. How he respected my family. How he was learning to love them, like I did. 

It was everything. 

'...so you learned sign, so you could ask me something?" Maria grinned, throwing me an excited thumbs up. 

'Yeah. I've already asked your mother, and brother, so I suppose it's fair that I ask you too.' 

My heart thudded in my ears when he winked at me, before turning back to my sister. Maria had already forgiven Azaan by their third or fourth sentence into the conversation. She seemed to realize what he wanted to ask her, and was probably more excited about it than I was. She kept nodding her head in encouragement, as if to say, 'Ask Already!!!" 

'Do you prefer Coke, or Pepsi?' Azaan finally asked seriously, 'It's very important that I find out.' 

What. 

My mouth dropped open in surprise. But Maria's disappointment was even more obvious. She just stared blankly at him, unsmiling. Looking at his hands, as if expecting him to say something more. 

While we hadn't really had the marriage talk after that night I called him from my hotel room,  it was obvious that this is where our relationship was heading. What with the family meeting and all, I'd thought that he was finally getting serious about us...

'Neither.' Maria finally shrugged, 'I'm a Pakola person?' 

'Oh I like Pakola too. Will help me a lot in the menu planning. Thanks.'  he saluted her, while my sister just glared confusedly at him. 

I snorted at his dramatics, finally catching onto his game. 

'What menu?' Maria demanded stonily. 

'Oh. Whoops. Forgot to ask the other question. Yeah, silly me. So *cough*here goes," Azaan rubbed his hands together nervously, 'Is it okay if I marry your sister, and serve both Coke and  Pakola at the reception? because I don't want to create a soda war at my wedding...'  

Maria's squeal of joy nearly rendered me deaf too. She was skipping with happiness, with her face half covered by her hands. I was too shell-shocked at the random way this conversation had escalated. 

He learned sign language, so he could ask my Deaf sister's permission to marry me. 

Is it emotionally possible to love someone with an intensity that scares you to death? Because this is happening to me right now. And I have no idea how long I can be nonchalant about this.

"Wow. That was easy." Azaan observed my sister, strolling over to stand next me, and casually stealing a candy from one of the baskets Ruby always keeps filled around the living room area. 

 Chum Chum chose that moment to lazily swish past me, deciding to sprawl heavily at Azaan's feet. He bent down to pet him, and I felt jealous of the lucky feline. 

  "Hey there, fatso!" Azaan crooned gently to the kitty who purred in approval when his long fingers scratched behind the ears. "Gosh, you're so big, you could probably swallow my friend, Chingu."

"You named your kitten Chingu?" I asked nonchalantly, somehow managing to curb the urge to squeal and skip around like my sister.  

"Short for Chingez Khan. The cat is dark-haired, and bloodthirsty, just like his namesake. In fact, I have this theory that he is a part-time assassin for the soviets, currently training the active members of Ra's Al Ghul..." He gave Chum Chum a last pat, before straightening up to attack the candy bowl again. I nodded at this information. 

'Yes! I would love to have you as a brother!' Maria eventually managed to articulate excitedly, 'Can I design your clothes? Pretty please? I know Mama's already designed Layla's dress, but I'm getting pretty good at Boy-clothes, and I think I can do it well!' 

Azaan's eyes popped open at this, and I giggled at the dazed expression on his face. He was finally experiencing my sister in all her determined enthusiasm. 

'Well. Yeah sure I guess...' He scratched his chin thoughtfully, 'Hadn't really thought beyond the food menu...' 

"Excuse me? Aren't you forgetting something?" I asked pointedly. Aren't you forgetting that you still haven't asked ME yet? 

"Nope." He carefully unwrapped his sixth chocolate and popped it in his mouth. Typical. 

"Are you sure you don't want to ask ME something too?" I raised my brows at him. 

 He shrugged. "Pretty sure....Wait. Hold up." He chewed slowly, holding up a finger to indicate pause.

I bit my lip excitedly at his frown of concentrated chewing. 

Then he slowly grinned suggestively, offering the candy basket to me, "Kisses?"

Son of a...

"No!" I snapped back, ignoring my sister's peels of laughter.

......

And then started this week-long torture of anticipation. He spoke to everyone else about our relationship, EXCEPT ME!

We were going through all the traditional rituals of pre-engagement with our families, except for the one that mattered the most. My actual consent.

Maybe he's planning something big. I thought to myself. We're finally doing stuff the right way. Maybe he's taking his time planning it...

But if he was planning anything, he sure was taking his sweet time actually doing it. Every time I tried hinting it, he'd change the topic and ignore me. By the following weekend, I was feeling pretty passive aggressive towards him. And Peeshay knew just how to cheer me up.

"We haven't hung out in ages Layls! You wanna go someplace today? It's Fridaaay! Fridaay!" She chirped over the phone, switching to a nasal impression of Rebecca Black.

"Someplace where people won't stare at my security guards? Sure." I huffed back. The death-threats following my court-fights with Musa, were still looming over my head. I'd unwillingly gotten used to the presence of security personnel around my home and workplace. It was the only way Mama, and Azaan could stop worrying over my safety.

"What, seriously? I thought Azaan would have plans for you two today. After all It's Fridaaay." She asked curiously.

"Yeah he invited me to hangout with his work people today. But I'll ditch him for you." I was perversely happy with the plan too. He deserved to be ditched. The tease...

Since her pregnancy had advanced, Shay had hired a full-time assistant to take over her regular jobs as the finance manager and VP of my organization. I barely got to see her, because she chose to work from home most of the time. And what with the craziness of my life, and Azaan, I hadn't realized how much I'd missed my best friend.

"Oohhh. Already ditching bros for hoes? You go gurl!" Shay snickered, and I giggled

"Alright. Just don't show up looking hotter than me. You're resembling a human blimp for God's sake. Time to ugly yourself, so I can feel good about myself." I teased.

"Excuuuse me? Have you seen you?" My best friend squawked indignantly. "You're a sex bomb, Layla Hayat!" she paused to screech at Faris for confirmation, "TELL HER SHE'S A SEXY LADY FARIS!"

"Is this a hormones thing, love?" Faris' baffled voice sounded over speaker. "Are you testing me right now?"

I heard an ominous crash followed by theatrical wail.

"IN ABOUT THREE MONTHS, I AM ABOUT TO PUSH A WATERMELON SIZED HUMAN OUT OF MY BODY, BECAUSE OF YOU!" Shay loudly continued her tirade, "THE LEAST YOU CAN DO, IS TELL MY BESTIE THAT SHE IS A SEXY WOMAN, BECAUSE SHE OBVIOUSLY NEEDS TO HEAR IT FROM SOMEONE WITH A YOU-KNOW-WHAT!"

I was doubled over with silent howls of laughter, just imagining Faris's terrified expression. Shay's mood swings over the past month have been mercurial to say the least. But if anyone can humor her with exasperated adoration; it's her poor husband.

"Oh for flub's sake, honey! Layla doesn't need me to--"

"A WATERMELON, FARIS! OUT OF MY TINY VAGI--"

"ALRIGHT ALRIGHT!" Faris yelled back, "Layla! You're hot shit! Okay? Geez!...."

"Thanks sweetie." Shay chirped back normally, as if she wasn't screaming bloody murder 0.5 seconds earlier.

Love for these two adorable idiots overflowed me. I hung up the phone after confirming plans, right in the middle of Pareeshae's terrible rendition of 'You're Beautiful'.

Which brings us to Maria's wardrobe advice for the day.

The deep red of my kurti matches the lip color I chose. My hair is neatly braided in a loose bun, with a few tendrils escaping and framing my face. On impulse, I had taken out my favorite Kashmiri Shawl, and draped it loosely over my shoulders. It was a gift from Azaan, years ago. The best part about these Shawls is the fact that you can wear them decades later, and they'd still be in fashion. Timeless.

'You look perfect, Laylee." Maria's eyes are wet as she hugs me, and I'm careful not to let my confusion show. 'Just never change, okay? Relationships are about making the other person happy, because it makes you happy too. But do it in a way that lets you be yourself. That is most important.'

I nodded wordlessly.

Our moment was interrupted by the steady ringing of my office phone.

I tamped down the impulse to ignore it. I desperately needed a night off, without work-calls. But then what I need comes second to what my girls need...

"Hello?" I answered, on my way downstairs.

"Ms. Hayat, I'm Mr. Shah's attorney. I believe we've conversed before." My blood ran cold at the polite voice that greeted me from the other end.

"For the duration of this call, Mr. Shah is on speaker phone with us right now, so he may hear your responses. Is that okay?"

I kept listening to the muted static on the line, refusing to say another word. I don't want him to even hear my voice...

"Mr. Shah would like a private meeting with you, Ms. Hayat. Anytime this week. The sooner the better."

"No." I finally rasped out.

"It concerns your brother, and your charity case-Chandi." The lawyer continued after a pause. He seemed to be excessively polite and gentle this time, and I was baffled at the contrast, because last time, he called me a bitch five minutes into the call...

"The answer is still NO." I replied numbly, "I have nothing to say to that man, that cannot be said through our legal counsel."

"Laylee?" A different voice now sounded over the call. It was deeper than I remembered, which is obvious, because the last time we talked, he was a pre-pubescent boy, with his hands down my pants.

"Laylee, I really need to see you sweetheart. It's been too long since we've been fighting in courts. I'm bored. It's time to settle this off the records....Hello?"

"No." I gulped, "No."

He let out a gravelly chuckle at my words. "Always such a stubborn girl. Tell me Layla; how long do you think you can fight me in court? We both know that this is about influence rather than justice. And I have more than you..."

"Then why are you so worried about it, anyways?" red hot anger spiked through my numbed fear. "If you're sure that you're going to win, then why bother 'settling off the records'?"

"Because I care for you, sweetheart. I always have." His silky reply made my skin crawl.

"I'm not interested in appealing to your goodwill, Mr. Shah. I want to win publicly. Under the table deals may be my father's way of playing, but they aren't really my style." I gritted out, proud of the way my voice hardly shook.

He laughed at that. A full bellied laugh full of mirth. And I felt like punching him through the phone.

"Tell me, Laylee. Did you get the flowers I sent you?" He mused playfully. "Roses. Your favorite weren't they?"

The urge to throw up, warred with my anger.

"I hate roses, a little less than I hate you." I informed him. "And Musa: there's nothing you can offer me, that will convince me to deal with you, whatsoever. Have an awful day, you son-of-a-bitch, and don't bother calling back."

I hung up before he could poison me some more with his words.

My phone screen lit up with text messages from that same number, and I ignored it.

It was with shaky steps that I reached the kitchen, gathering the bunches of sweet smelling roses in my arms, and dumping them unceremoniously in the waste basket. I manically hunted the entire house for his bouquets, before getting rid of them all.

Blood Roses.

And then I called him up, because I needed to hear his voice.

Author's Note:

God I am in love with writing about these two! *Heart Eyes*. 

It's fun for me, because I keep anticipating the hilarious reactions y'all have! :'D

Anyways. 

My official illustrator AKA SnarkQueen AKA Meu_Rae drew up these incredible drawings of the photos Azaan took. :') and I can never see them without squealing, because hand-drawn drawings are my absolute favorite. And these in particular just manage to capture that adorable element that I had in my brain when I wrote those words. 

HOW ADORABBUBLE ARE THESE? 

*Hyperventilates*

And then, in awesome covers, I have these beauties to show off from Curlyy-fries: 

And just in case, y'all aren't jealous enough yet. My favorite Wattpad Noob: ayeshaandbooks  sent in this amazing one: 

Have I ever told you, how much I love you guys? :) 

Well. You'll find out, exactly how much. 

Very "Soon". 

Love and Potatoes, 

-E.