Copyright © 2014 by roastedpiglet (of Wattpad)
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author.
Piggy's Note:
Haha, so I was editing the formatting of the chapters of this story, and I came upon a seriously, unmistakably, GRAVE error. In Chapter 28, I wrote there that Mia only had six months left until the renovation of Little Italy Townhouse, and by then she'd have 9000 dollars saved up from working at Laurel-Tech. But that's actually supposed to be six WEEKS, and if you compute that (Mia gets 1500 per week) she'll have exactly 9000 dollars.
Haha, math.
Anyway, hello! Sorry that it's a bit late this time. I did a revision of the chapters ahead, and that's why when I said you'll learn something new about Alex in this chapter, instead, you'll learn something new about Mia's momsy. But hey - Alex still will appear in this chapter (oopsie) and #Fia moments are coming up reaaaaal soon. [laughs evilly]
This is dedicated to @mclovinthedark, because she's amazing, fellows. She really is.
Shout-outs to @lamein because I see her in my news feed constantly, and to @MichelaAmoruso because at such a young age, she understood how Mia truly felt, and credit for the ocean / floats image in this chapter goes to her.
I hope you enjoy this chapter! You're rad, rad, rad, peeps. I love you all. [hugs you]
See you again soon? :)
Cookies x muffins x cupcakes
Myka \(◕‿◕✿)/
P.S. Unedited. Sorryyy! [still hugs you]
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c h a p t e r t h i r t y - f i v e
[ h o w t o b e y o u r o w n q u e e n ]
It was half past one, the rain had considerably died down, and we were drying ourselves in my mother's own one-bedroom loft at a condo down a few streets in Jameson Heights, Queens, NY.
One word that would describe this day was surreal. It was very much so. It didn't seem real, the situation I was in was so absurd and I never would've expected it to happen—but it felt real. It was real.
I was finally with my mother after not seeing her, not sensing any trace of her, for an entire year. The bizarre thing was, I wasn't livid. I was on the other side of the spectrum of emotions.
I was ecstatic.
When I was done drying myself, I placed the towel my mom had given me earlier at the back of one of the steel chairs in her dining room, trekking to the living room where she stayed, her hair wet, drips of it being caught by the towel wrapped around her neck.
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