Twenty-four-year-old Aurora Rossi is still haunted by the memories of her family. As Aurora moved to New York City, a desperate attempt to get away from her family and an arranged marriage, she attained her dreams of living a stable life, meeting ne...
Author's Note: Heyyeveryone! Hope everybody is doing great. I'm feeling much better now after my break, so here comes the update.
I have a small story to tell you guys. Recently, I visited a library and they were giving free books and I was like, "What?!" I went up and asked about that and saw that the books were sitting there in their cute little displays, but I just couldn't pick one (I also didn't know what they were about). So I ended up asking the librarian which one is romance and she stared at me.
Literally just stared at me for six seconds straight without blinking. NOT TO MENTION, there was this other guy standing there asking about a book and I decided to spit the question out at the moment. I felt so judged. I even tried to whisper it. Pfttt, how embarrassing... Why would I ask that? I will never be going back to that library. Then, I looked at her like:
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But in the end, I ended up getting my romance book, so I was pretty happy, skipping (I ran) out of the library with a book tucked under my shirt.
Also me typing and editing this chapter late at night while listening to some cheesy love songs that I cannot relate to because I was busy all week:
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Chapter 9 [REWRITTEN] : Aurora
As great as the holidays were, it still always made me nervous. Today might not be Christmas, but with the high demand of holiday treats on top of Elora and Bexley's high-pitched voices, I found myself breaking a sweat and it definitely wasn't because of the scorching oven next to me. I knew I was about to walk home sore tonight, especially with my long non-forgotten wounds I gave myself last night.
"Bailey came back?!" Bexley stretched. "When? That son-of-a-beach didn't even tell me!"
Elora looked back at her. "You do know you guys have the same parents, right?"
"Shizzles, I forgot I'm related to that idiot. Darn it," she muttered as she looked down, switching to the red icing to decorate the gingerbread cookies angrily.
I doubt she forgot though. I lost count of the many times she called me at night, crying about how she misses her brother when he was on his vacation in Paris with his boyfriend for their five-year anniversary. Then, I would lay there half-asleep as she bawled while speaking gibberish and eventually fell back asleep.
