yemi2plus: Each time I check for an update, all I see are hidden posts. What's wrong?

Don't know what's wrong but I complained to the mod, the post has beeen unhidden now. It was an update.

underage:

Don't know what's wrong but I complained to the mod, the post has beeen unhidden now. It was an update.

You are welcome.

Mynd_44:
You are welcome.

Thank you Mynd, for welcoming me and for coming to my aid. Hope you'll follow my story

underage:

Thank you Mynd, for welcoming me and for coming to my aid. Hope you'll follow my story

I follow every story

Mynd_44:
I follow every story

Rily? I guess it won't be easy.

Wesslier:
Rily? I guess it won't be easy.

I am required to

Mynd_44:
I follow every story

Okay, not an easy task though. More grease to your elbows.

underage:

Okay, not an easy task though. More grease to your elbows.

Thanks

Dat ws more dan gud@repogirl,

datblaqgurl: d examiner got examined.. Dats nice

Like in "The ghost and d darkness, when d hunters became d hunted."

Min while am finally here... am now up to speed... U are pretty gud lyk i anticipated

Bestluv584: Dat ws more dan gud@repogirl,

Repogirl isn't here

Wesslier: Min while am finally here... am now up to speed... U are pretty gud lyk i anticipated

Thnx Wesslier

"So, how was your meeting today?" Sheeba asked, putting a cream biscuit into her mouth.

"Well, as I've told you, the plan didn't work like the way we expected; still I got more than what I wanted." Deeba told her happily.

"Yeah." Sheeba said thoughtfully. "I didn't think he could guess about your dummy journalist role so easily."

"How was his behavior?" Sheeba asked, curious as ever.

"His manners were flawless the entire evening, courteous, respectful, and ever the gentleman." Said Deeba.


"Even apparently too." She told Sheeba. "He looks so wonderful in glasses. Nothing like an Indian or English movie star, he is a unique star in his own self. He has his own district personality."

"I see," Sheeba gave her knowing glance. "It seems to me that you like him more than I thought." Sheeba stated with a meaningful expression on her peace.

"Yes I like him." Deeba said soberly. "More than that, I adore him, I respect him, but not like the way you think."

"Meaning?" Sheeba raised her brows quizzically.

"What's wrong with you Sheeba?" She asked her sister, giving her an amgry look. "Okay, I admit, he's very close to my ideal and he is my favorite poet. But don't think I have lost my mind for him. And even if I had, he is too far from my reach."

"Your ideal?" Sheeba turned to face her now. "You never told me about thay. How's your ideal?"

"Very much like him." Deeba said dreamily. "Calm, yet dominating."

"Dominating?"

"Come one dear, don't you know I don't like "dubboo" type or "buddhoo" kind of men?" Deeba stared at her sister, confused. "I've always like dominating men. A man who could guard his woman like a shield, instead of following her, walking behind her."

"Oh yes, that I know." Sheeba smiled in answer. "Your wierd philosophy that Pakistani girls are mainly of two kinds."

"Aha, and what are those?"

"First kind of girls want an all-time friendly husband, who always walks side-by-side with them, free and intimate as ever."

"Hmm, and second?" Deeba smiled. She was suprised by the fact that her sister had not forgetten their once-held discussion about which kind of husbands they would prefer themselves.

"Second variety of girls wants a dominating husband. A man who could guide then through different twists and turns of life, holding their finger in his hand, right?" Sheeba wanted her confirmation.

"Yes, but it's not just that." Deeba added. "A husband who can be a strict teacher, guiding you about what to do and what not, a wonderful, gentle lover and a caring friend, all at the same time."

"Well sister." Sheeba sighed. "I can only pray for you that you find such kind of guy some time. Though the chances are very rare."

Deeba didn't reply this time.

"So, he was good with you, right?" Sensing her elder sister's reaction, Sheeba changed the topic.

"Yes, very much. He didn't talk anything rude or bad. His expressions, his gestures were very decent." Deeba could never get tired of this topic.

"I still feel that he doesn't belong to this world. I mean he looks so isolated." Sheeba stated.

"That's what he says too." Deeba breathed coldly. "That he doesn't belong to this world. He has his own world".

"But I had an impression that he is rude and proud, specially his behavior with women........" Sheeba remarked.

"Not at al." Deeba cut in. "Go, and read all of his poems. He cares about women, respects them.

"Well." Sheeba got up from her place. "I am not sure that he will tell you anything about his personal life. People like him feel weird pleasure in keeping themselves hidden and mysterious. They actually know that this is the secret of their popularity."

"Wait and see." Deeba smiled as she put her forearm on her eyes and closed them. "Let's see what happens."

********************

He was sitting back in his chair, his hands cupped behind his head, when the telephone rang.

He rose to answer it.

"Yes?"

"Assalaam O alaikum sir." From the other side, came a familiar feminine voice.

"Walaikum salaam."

"Sir, it's me Deeba. Deeba Rizvi." From her voice, she sounded very excited and refeshing.

"Oh" A long breath escaped out of his lungs. Surely he had not forgotten this very interesting girl.

"Sir,.you promised to tell me more about yourself." She asked hopefully.

"Listen." He replied spotlessly. "First, I didn't promise that I'd tell you more about myself, and second it's not next week if I'm not forgetting, I told you to call me next week but you've called earlier."

"Oh, sorry. I couldn't wait." Said Deeba, now she sounded disappointed.

"Anyway. What do you want to ask?"

"Sir, I want to know more about you. I mean I'd be really glad if you could tell me more about your personal life."

"Whoever you are." He said a little harder than ever, and for the first time Deeba thought he was about to lose his temper finally.

But suprisingly, his voice and tone became normal again within a second, as calm and soft as ever.

"I just don't understand why you have this much interest in my personal life."

She kept herself silent this time.

"Do you have any convincing reason why I should let you open the private book of my life?" He asked firmly.

"Yes sir." She said courageously this time. 'I can convince you."

There was a long silence on his side. Perhaps, he was thinking.

"Alright." He finally answered. "You have five minutes to convince me why I should tell you about my personal matters."

"It would be something better for the newer generation like me, to follow upon." She gave her first reason.

"We can learn a lot from your mistakes if you did any. People want to know, as your fan, someone has right to know about you as much as he or she could."

"I just don't understand why and how you see it as something beneficial for you." He argued.

"Then let's talk about it and we shall see." She was determined to try until her last effort.

Again, he took several moments to give his answer, but when he spoke, it rang wedding bells in her ears.

"Alright Miss. Deeba, I'll see you at my home tomorrow, 5 p.m sharp."

And he hung up the reciever.

underage:

Repogirl isn't here

sori dat ws a mistake.... Ur story is so captivating lyk hers

Bestluv584: sori dat ws a mistake.... Ur story is so captivating lyk hers

I understand

Following patiently, with interest.

Are you still typing with ur mobile?

harlos: Following patiently, with interest.

Are you still typing with ur mobile?

Yeah . Thnx for following patiently

The next day, when she entered his luxurious house at the arranged time, she could hardly believe that it was actually happening. Aariz Ali, who had his popularity as someone who doesn't care about others, never gives any interview, never appears on media, had agreed to talk to her about his personal life.

"Miss Deeba?" He had come forward to greet her as she looked at him.

His personal life, she thougjt, as she made her way towards his dinning room. A mysterious book, which no one had dared to open until now.

With the faintest of smiles, he leaded her up the wide carpeted stairs.

Once she took her place on the big, blue sofa, he lowered his frame into the armchair that matched the blue-flowered sofa.

Once sat comfortably, she took a detailed look of him.

He looked tired. Wearing plain, black shilwar suit, he looked uniquely stylish. Through moderb black-rimmed glasses, his eyes look sleepy, like he'd not slept for days. He had some book in his hands and from it's thickness, Deeba could juge that it was very lengthy.

"Do you know Deeba?" He said calmly, setting down the book he was reading.

Her own name on his tongue for the very first time brought all of her senses to full alert.

"It seems like there's some invisible power that pushes me, orders me to tell.you things which I've always kept limited to myself." He said softly, his eyes not on her face as usual.

"Anyway," He tipped his heas back to the headrest of his easy chair. "I'm prepared now. You may proceed."

She decided to ask right away, instead of wasting her time in preliminaries. As she was not sure of he'd keep on telling all these things she wanted to inquire about or he would change his mind at any instant.

"What was the biggest mistake of your life?"

"Mistake?" He laughed huskily. "I personally believe that I'm one of the biggest sinners of the world." He gave her a wounded smile.

"Infact, my whole life has been a mistake."

Without going into depth of his comment, she asked her next question.

"Do you live here alone? No family?"

"Next question please." His lips tightened together.

Her mouth tightened but she did not argue.

"Do you believe in relations and family values?" She asked.

"Relations like what?" He asked back.

"Umm, like mother, father, siblings, wife."

He smiled absently. "No, I have no one. I live here, all alone. I have no family, no relatives now.". He murmured expressionlessly.

As usual, this time too, she didn't miss the chance to see the wetness in his eyes, which was a hallmark of his smiles. Deeba noted he was not looking like the Aariz she had met the other day. This Aariz looked too tired, tensed and broken.

"Don't you have any friends?" She tried to change the tensed atmosphere.

"Yes, I have, few ones." He said uniformly. "Friends, like books, should be few and well-chosen."

"People say there's a hand of some woman behind every successful man. Whose hand was involved in your case?" She inquired, staring at him deeply.

"Who said I'm a successful man?" He replied, peering at her over his spectacles.

"People think so."

"I don't care about people." He replied instantly. "But yes, I do believe in relations like mother's...." His voice became husky and thick, his throat heavy.

"What is mother?" Can you define this word?"

On her question, he gave her a long look, very long, for the first time. From his expression,.she thought she had asked something really terrible. At some instant, she thought he was about to cry. His gaze shifted to some distant point, and then he closed his eyes painfully.

His voice hollow, he said, " Mother is a person, who on seeing, that there are only four pieces of bread for four people out of five, announces that she never did care for bread!" He smiled sadly.

At first,.she couldn't understand what he'd said but as soon she did, she was lost in the beauty of his words.

"Hey you there?" He swayed his hands in front of her eyes......and she came back from the trance, which his talking had produced.

He said no more, which did not suprise her, for he never spoke of his family or background.

"Don't you ever lose your temper?" She asked petulantly.

"Not sincr I was....." He caught his tongue before he could say further. "Sonce the time I have become mature..."

She clearly noticed that he'd stopped himself from saying something reallu important. But she didn't insist.

"Do you cry?" She asked, observing him very closely.

"What do you do when the only person who can make you stop crying is the person who made you cry?' As usual, he asked bavk, instead of giving her proper answer. "Of course you won't prefer crying in such circumtances. Will you?"

"What does it take to make you happy?"

"Are you writing my biography, Deeba?" He asked evenly. He looked somewhat impressed by the way she was asking questions today, very fluently and confidently. She didn't look like the girl who had met him before.

She smiled in answer. "No," She said decently. "The purpose of asking all these questions is different."

"Why do you give a damn anyway?" He asked as his lips twisted into a parody of smile.

She swallowed, shaking her head. "You'd know the purpose later."

"So," She carried on, " You became so popular in such a short time. How does it feel to be famous?"

"I never wanted popularity. I got it without my will." He said firmly, sliding his glasses slightly up on his nose with a delicate touch of his index finger.

"You look like you're in pain Sir. Like someone has really hurt you, wounded you, more than you can bear." She said with sympathetic honesty.

No one has hurt me." He told her. " I hurt myself."

"How?"

He turned his gaze to the ceiling.

"Hatred is like acid. It destroys the vassel that holds it."

"I'm sure that's very deep, but I'm afraid you've lost me." She leaned toward him. "That's one of the things that drive me crazy about you. You can never simply say yes or no. Why do you always answer a question with a cryptic remark or, worse, another question?"

"Do I do that?" Turning to face her, he shot her a crooked smile, but his eyes gleamed like cool metal.

Her eyes couldn't rise up.

"I sometimes wonder how calm you sound!" Deeba said, amazed.

"It's one thing I learned from her......" He wanted to stop himself, but it was too late. He regretted this very moment. It occured to him that, today; someone wanted him to break all of his rules and principles.

He then slid a knowing glance at Deeba.

"Probably you're now thinking what happened to me, right?" He said quietly. "Perhaps, you're thinking that I was a failure in love or something like that." He laughed emptily.

She praised his fine, telepathic mind.

He released a long weary breath, "I guess there isn't anything else I can say, is there?"

"Tell me about her."

She said anxiously.

He met her gaze squarely, though the lamplight glinting on his lenses made it impossible to see his eyes. But then, she thought she could almost see a tear trickling down his cheek.

He leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, looking more tired and hurt than ever, his eyes were half lidded, hiding the waters underneath, shading them.

Pulling her lips between her teeth, she scanned the persian carpet at her feet, nodding jerkily. "I.....I'm sorry," She whispered after a taut minute.

Although she had guessed it, but suddenly it made her more uncomfortable than ever.

And then, she was hit by a horrible truth. She wanted very badly to have this man to tell his story to her. There was something about him that touched her deep inside, something unnamable, risky, considering the fact that he'd recently admitted there was some woman who had......

He looked up at her, his expression serious but not angry. "What else do you want to know now?"

"Each and every thing sir." She whispered, her voicr full of curiosity. "Right from the beginning."

"Who was she?" She asked automatically. But seeing his reaction, she hated herself for asking such a stupid question. It was all very much obvious.

He groaned. His eyes grew cold and he cast her a heavy-lidded glance.

"I...I can't." He said huskily, his throat tear clotted.

"Just try to relax." She said. "I think you need to talk about that sir."

"Something's been eating at you for a long time." She added softly.

He darted a mutinous look her way, and in it, Deeba witnessed the shadow of his sadness and its vile complexity, raw and very close on the surface. Somehow she knew that, today, he was going to tell her things he'd kept bottled for years. Nothing to help him on his difficult journey.

His eyes blazed into hers.

"That's true," He agreed straightly, unexpectedly.

Her breathing became rapid, short and fast, and her heart began to beat so loudly that she immediately began to fear that perhaps Aariz would hear it.

"Talk to me, Sir!" She heard herself again and again.

He leaned forward, propping his chin on his other hand. His eyes were closed, his lips drawn in a fierce line. After nerve-racking moment, he faced her.

Deeba forced herself not to ask question this time. He had to tell the story in his own way.

Aariz dropped his gaze and seemed to go inward.

Let him say it! Her mind warmed. Let him get it out. The pain of doing that will cauterize the wound.

He paused for a moment before he said,

"Her name was........"

What is her name? Tell me now the suspense is too much

Winnie1950: What is her name? Tell me now the suspense is too much

lol ......you have to look out for the next update.

underage:

lol ......you have to look out for the next update.

Hope nepa doesn't cut power in Pakistan? Wel don ma

Wesslier:
Hope nepa doesn't cut power in Pakistan? Wel don ma

There is no Nepa in Pakistan. Lol

"Her name was....."

He repeated slowly, his eyes closed, his face showing an unpredictable expression.

"I suppose....." He murmured, his voice low. "There will be no use of telling her name now as I can't give her a sole, single name. I'd tell you the whole story anyway."

She didn't interrupt at this stage; just sat othere stunned and curious about what to come.

"But it's a long story." He told her. "I'm afraid you won't be able to hear all in just one sitting."

"Don't worry." Deeba tried to smile. "I'd come tomorrow too, if you don't mind."

Her statement made him chane his gesture, he looked suprised, somewhat disturbed too.

"Don't you have any other thing to do?"

"First things first," She didn't break her smile. "I'm on vacation these days."

Aariz was a constant suprise for her; just when she expected him to be furious, he was quiet. Or was this just the calm before the storm.

He uncurled himself, stood and reached near his room window. Extending his hand, he openeed the glass shield. Sea-scented salty breeze began to flow inside the room quickly, and so did those memories, which were not less salty anyway.

"Yes. It.....it still feels like yesterday. It still seem like today." He whispered, like he was talking to himself.

***************

I'm so bad at tying knots." He said helplessly.

"Especially of these satin ties." He added.

"Hurry up buddy, we're about to leave." Shaheryaar's voice was urgent, as he glanced at the wall clock.

"But this damn thing will not let me leave early." He replied, frustrated, his hands doing their best to set the knot around his shirt collar.

"And only now you realized this, huh?" Shaheryaar said, turning his friend toward himself so that he could help him.

"Wait, let me help you with that." Shaheryaar reached out, and with great skill in a minute he had fixed his friend's tie up. He then stepped a feet behind a have a look at him.

"My goodness, very handsome, you look wonderful!" Shaheryaar's eyes were sparkling with a real glimpse of praise for his closest friend's smartness.

He had smooth, whitish complexion and the cloths he wore made him more attractive than ever. He was wearing dark black pants and an expensive crisp, royal blue shirt with a finely tailored black jacket and pure red tie. In his mid-twenties, he was a prime specimen of manhood, decent in the typical way of a man of the East. He was not very tall, but his height was definitely above average.

"I only hope that they're carrying some ambulances with Baaraat!" Shaheryaar smiled and winked.

"Ambulance?" His hands suddenly left his jet black, shiny hairs, as he kept the hairbrush on the mirrored table. "What for?"

"You're going to hurt so many girls out there. So much beauty really hurts sometimes." Shaheryaar smiled and winked.

"So do you think twenty six is too early to get married?" He asked casually, ignoring Shaheryaar's remark.

"Umm, I don't think so." He told him. "I actually believe Daniyal has taken the right step. I mean he is established, shaped and ready. Why wait then?"

"So funny," Shaheryaar laughed. "Actually you're not getting me, friend."

"Not getting what?"

"I meant if he's taken the right step by following his parents' suggestion blindly. I mean it would be purely an arranged kind of marriage. They didn't even meet before." He threw a critical glance at himself in the mirror.

"So what? That happens everyday in our society." Shaheryaar commented.

"But happening everyday doesn't justify it." He grinned sarcastically, and turned toward the mirror once again to spray the rich 'eterny' on his expensive, well-cut suit.

"I think that's the best way of preserving your roots and family values and to keep everyone happy." Shaheryaar placed his hands behind his nap and looked at him.

"Other's happiness....?" One of his eyebrows rose up. "Even if you have to kill your own happiness for that?"

"That's my motto." Shaheryaar smiled. "Live for others. One should not be so selfish that, in the end, he might find himself all alone and lonely."

"I don't agree." He picked up the keys from his table amd motioned him to stand up.

"Do others live for us?" He asked harshly. "I can't even imagine myself.spending life with someone who won't match my mind and heart."

"That certainly needs understanding." Shaheryaar said, as he followed him toward the main gate of his big house.

"Yeah, and understanding comes with meetings and gatherings. You have to pass time with each other to develop some understanding."

He had never met a woman he couldn't live without, and he wasn't going to settle for less. One day he would probably marry, but she had to be tight; he was looking for a special woman, a very special woman, and he hadn't found her yet.

As they climed into their car, Aariz put it into fast speed. They didn't have much time.

Once on the main road, he took a long breath and put a quick glance on the passenger seat which Shaheryaar sat, smiling continuously.

"Anything funny?" He raised his brows.

"Not really." Shaheryaar sighed, I was just remembering some marriage jokes. Those funny things always come to myind automatically whenever I attend some wedding."

"Mind telling me some of those?" He asked with pure interest.

"Sure, why not." Shaheryaar chuckled.

"They say, marriage is a three-ring circle: Engagement ring, wedding ring and 'suffering'."

He smiled wonderfully as Shaheryaar finished his sentence.

"Very well." He appreciated.

"And like." Shaheryaar continued. "When a man opens the door of his car of his wife, you can sure of one thing. Either the car is new or the wife is new...."

This time he couldn't stop the natural laughter.

"Do you know what does it take to be happy with your wife?"

"You tell me." He gazed at him, grinning.

"Well," Shaheryaar smiled back. "To be happy with a husband, you must understand him a lot and love him a little, but to be happy with a wife, you must love her a lot and try not to understand her at all."

"Haha." He was truly enjoying what Shaheryaar was saying.

I'd never understand one thing." Shaheryaar said, now a little more serious.

"And what's that?" He inquired, turning the steering wheel to right.

"Why the married men live longer than single men?"

In answer he laughed softly and said. "But didn't you realize that married men are a lot more willing to die?"

"Well.said." Shaheryaar smiled and then asked.

"By the way, what do you think, what are the qualities of a good husband?"

"Umm," He thought for a second then replied, "I think he should be an archeologist."

"An archeologist?"

"Yeah, an archeologist is the best husband a woman can have; the older she gets, the more interested.he is in her."

This time, Shaheryaar's laughter was louder than ever.

For the next few moments, they both remained silent, perhaps gathering their nerves again.

"Does marriage change one's life?" His question was sudden and spontaneous.

Shaheryaar turned his face toward him, wondering what had made him ask this question, totally out of the topic.

"Well yes. It does." Shaheryaar told him.

"How much?" He asked again.

"Depends."

"On what?"

"Om circumstances, natures, characters and...... on your fate." Shaheryaar said soberly.

Suprisingly, he didn't ask another question then. There was a silence of few moments then.

"Sometimes I really wonder," He said, breaking the silence. "That who would be my life partner? How would ahe look like and how would she behave and all that....."

"That's natural." Shaheryaar said philosophically. "Every one of us does that. Ofcourse it's the question of your whole life."

"But it's not just that." He argued. "I think even more."

"Like what?"

"Like I am twenty six now, amd how long will it take for me to get married finally."

"I think I'd have to talk to your mother about that now." Shaheryaar suggested naughtily.

"Come on, Shaheryaar. You know very well that I don't believe in arranged marriages. It's a watse of your life, a big gamble."

"So you're waiting for the moment when you fall in love with someone, righr?" Shaheryaar asked.

"From the present scenario, it looks like that it will never happen." He sighed. "Never meet the princess of my dreams, didn't even see her anywhere."

"Okay, what about a bet then?" Shaheryaar challenged, smiling.

"Bet for what?"

"You're going to fall in love tonight."

"Aha. Funny, isn't it?" He laughed.

"Trust me, you will."

"Right, and with whom?" He smiled sarcastically.

"With the girl who won't smile at you."

"Just what the heck does that mean?" He cut in sharply, having no idea of what his friend was talking about.

"I've seen many girls giving you a typical 'take-me' smile. But this girl will be different. She will be proud, not rude though." Shaheryaar told him dreamily.

"Know what?" You can write some goos romance poems." He criticized his imagination. "It doesn't happen even in movies now."

"Yes but it does happen in real life sometimees." Shaheryaar was very much determined.

From his serious expression, even he couldn't guess whether his friend was really serious or was just having fun.

*******************

Dr. Shahper's house was in Gulshan, a few miles away from his own in Clifton. He was Shaheryaar's favorite uncle, youngest brother of his father. It was suprising even for himself that, at times, he felt more close to sixty-year-old Shahper uncle than he did with his son, his cousin, Daniyal who was twenty-six.

He slowed the car as they approached their destination. Swinging off the main road, the black Honda accord rolles past the long row of pine trees to stop in front of the huge building, which was completely drowned in sparkling lights and bulbs at the moment.

With the gear shifted to park, he switched off the ignition key and opened the door for Shaheryaar. The house itself was large, a duplex, was tastefully decorated with all the necessary wedding items.

Big colorful bulbs hung from the walls, setting off gallaries and room with shades and glows of bright color.

Moments later he and Shaheryaar entered the spacious two-storied house. It was a beautiful place with polished oak floors and beamed ceilings. They notices that the interior of the house was equally sparkling. Everything was arranged in a neat and well-styled manner supported by heavy beautiful, colored bulbs and glamarous electric fancy lights. The furniture was modern and elegant and was organized on the grass lawn in an elegant way to accomodate all the guests. The whole place was crowded with people.

There were girls already present on the reception, lining up together to welcome the guests with beautiful flower vases and bouquet in their hands.

As they neared the reception are, the tantalizing aroma of different fragrances of male and female perfumes greeted them, mixed with delicious smells emmitting from several wedding dishes.

While passing thorugh the main reception gate, they stopped for a while for introduction and exchange of greetings. As he paused in front of young girls and bent his head to take the large rose chaplet in his neck, he heard a musical feminine laughter nearby. He lifted his gaze to inspect her as his glance touched the person who was offerung him the chaplet.

His eyes blazed into hers as her forearms circled his neck to set the chaplet properly.

Shaheryaar gave her a warm smile and paused in front of her to introduce.

"Meet my best friend," Smiling, Shaheryaar introduced him to her. "Aariz Ali from Karachi."

"And Aariz......this is Komal from London." Shaheryaar introduced. "She is Daniyal's cousin."

Seems like no1 is enjoying the story anymore. You guys are not encouraging at all. It really takes a lot of time to type and post updates for you regularly and really discouraging when no1 seem to have interest in your writing. I think I should stop the story.

I don't know but is my story boring? Or is it because am a newbie here? Nevertheless, am waiting for your opinions on what to do about the story.

N her name was KOMAL..

Dear, u shldnt stop d story.. Itz alwz like ds wen its a new story, trust me, wit tym u'll get more followers..

For my sake, pls continue.. *pleading*

Pls dnt stp.... We love u nd ur story

datblaqgurl: N her name was KOMAL..

Dear, u shldnt stop d story.. Itz alwz like ds wen its a new story, trust me, wit tym u'll get more followers..

For my sake, pls continue.. *pleading*

I understand. But still I need the few followers I have to keep me going with a few words of encouragement.

SPLENDIDFLOZZY: Pls dnt stp.... We love u nd ur story

We (my story and I) love you too.

Well 4 mi u are doin a gud job especially are u are rytin abt foreign characters. Kip rytin and i assure u that vry soon mur ppl wud be interested.

Wesslier: Well 4 mi u are doin a gud job especially are u are rytin abt foreign characters. Kip rytin and i assure u that vry soon mur ppl wud be interested.

Okay, thanks

underage:

Okay, thanks

.
Does dat means i'll continue readin dis wondaful piece?