❝ CLEANING THE HOUSE IS NOT 'MALEWIFE BEHAVIOUR', IT'S CALLED BEING A RESPONSIBLE ADULT. ❞
━━━ al-haitham's friends scribble his phone number in one of the stalls of the girls' washroom, and he ends up getting a message at 3 am.
[ al-haith...
❛ does the truth hurt your huge pride (and chest) ❜
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[ 8:13 PM ]
Y/N:
hey boytoy wait a second
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"Can you get over here?"
Nilou gathered the unkempt, crimson strands caressing her skin into a bun. She shot a confused glance to Y/N, who remained rooted to her bed, her body as rigid as a statue. Her face had grown pallid— with fear or shock, Nilou didn't know.
"Are you okay?"
"Slap me."
"...What?"
"Slap me." Y/N repeated, her gaze never leaving the blinding screen of her phone.
Baffled, the girl walked towards her with her brows pinched together. She let her eyes trail across the message her roommate had been relentlessly gawking at, and felt her own jaw drop within a matter of seconds.
"Oh, he's making a move, alright..."
"It says 'Be my muse', does it not? Have I lost all sense of comprehension? Is he using this line as a metaphor for something? I don't understand writers." Y/N blabbered, her hands moving animatedly with each word she uttered. "Am I going insane?"
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