Wedding Planning Disaster

Jamila stared at the five-tiered, Swarovski-encrusted wedding cake on the giant touchscreen display with the intensity of a woman who hadn't had cheese in three months.

"That cake looks like it wants to rob me in my sleep," she muttered, her eyes narrowing. "Is it smirking at me?"

Aayan leaned over her shoulder, dressed like a GQ cover model who moonlighted as a mafia boss. "It cost twenty thousand dollars."

"I could buy a car for that," she snapped, shifting her pregnant belly to the left. “Or at least a lifetime supply of mangoes and pickles.”

“You’re marrying a billionaire, Jamila. The cake should sparkle more than your engagement ring.”

Jamila raised an eyebrow. "That ring nearly blinded Jasmine. She still sees stars when she sneezes."

Aayan smirked. "Then I’ve done my job."