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

"I've wanted to do that in forever, you tease," he murmurs against my lips, and I can't help but shrug at him.

"I can stay," he kisses my cheek, "here with you and," over my other cheek, "keep kissing you," kiss on my forehead, "and," another kiss, "even then," on my chin, "I would still want more."

"Thank you for giving this guy what he has wanted for so long," he says, kissing me on my nose. He gazes into my eyes, and I blush.

"Ayan," I cry out again, failing to say more as the pain from my stomach spreads to my arms, legs and head. Even moving my hands feels akin to running a marathon right now, and I feel as if I'm dying.

"Hey, a-are you okay?" Ayan asks, bending down and placing a hand on my shoulder. "Why are you sitting down on the stairs at 6 am, sunflower? A-and are you crying?!" He raises his hand and then wipes the tears on my cheek, letting his hand linger there for two seconds longer.

Dying