Drapetomaniac12

Two families. An arranged marriage. 
What could possibly go wrong?

A story filled with love, laughter and lots of embarrassment.
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"You can't find someone so pretty, smart, funny, stubborn, mature, childlike, fearless, shy, insecure, emotional, no bullshit; all at the same time."

"You're like a broken compass. You are either happy or just fucking annoyed with everything. Either way, you don't know exactly how you feel and what you want."

Despite not wanting to get married, when Naira's family insists her to tie the knot, she decides to give Ayan a chance. Cocky, friendly, and extremely attractive, he shares an unlikely trail of secrets that haunt his past and come knocking down his present. Getting kidnapped, temporarily adopting a seven-year-old, attending a marriage, making new friends... Naira does it all. Amid all the chaos, she'll find not only love but also herself.

"Your laugh wrinkles your forehead. It touches my foolish heart."

"You're like a book I keep on reading but can't remember. Every time I read, I find a new section, a new paragraph, a new sentence."

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The characters are both Indian and reside in Delhi as of now.

What a mess

"You're not going to kiss me before leaving?" I call out to him with a frown edged on my lips.

"Of course I'm going to do that, sunflower..."

Ansh leads us to his room where he takes out the phone from under the pillow. Smiling apologetically at me, he hands it to me.

"What... What the fuck did you do? Why isn't it turning on?!" I say frantically after a few minutes of trying to turn the phone on.

He whistles lightly as Ayan takes the phone from my hand and taps on the phone screen again and again.

"I think I should change. I had a long day at work..." Ansh trails off and before he can head out, I grab his arm and yank him to the bed.

"What. Did. You. Do?!" I scream, rooting him in the spot with the death glare I'm shooting him.

"I couldn't get your passcode right in the first try, little sis..." He leans his head back, creating as much distance between us as he can.

Fock Is Not A Word