“You are fucking impossible!!!” Leila yells at me across the table, and I scream straight back in complete, unveiled rage.

“I’m not wearing a fucking purple wedding dress; the dress is not down to you to pick. What the hell were you thinking?” I throw her booklet at her, and it bounces off the coffee table and lands on the floor dramatically.

“Hey, hey, come on.” Arrick tries to intervene, sitting me back down on the couch, and I glare at her hatefully. Fury fueling ...