I think that I'm in love.
Yes that's it. I'm in love with Shehzad. After all, he's the only man to come in my life from the outside. What else can I name these awkward feelings?
But I have no idea what love is? Should I study it before drawing any conclusions?
But I just cannot stop thinking about Shehzad. I cannot stop thinking about his beautiful eyes, his ways and his face—his wide back as he slept next to me.
His scent lingered in my mind and I felt his soft luscious chocolate brown hair as he slept and I caressed his lips and brushed mine on them very carefully so that he wouldn't be disturbed.
I think that this really is love and I blush every time I draw that thought.
But first I have to deal with my present predicaments.
"What's this about Abigail?" I grumbled, frowning in c
