#(haiz)

With a kiss to her cheek, you glance over her shoulder and see her looking at an Instagram draft. She turns to you and you hand her the tea.

“Thank you, babe,” she accepts the mug, taking a sip and closing her eyes at the wonderful taste.

“Are you alright?” You ask her. She sighs. Not a good start.

“Hailee, hey, look at me,” you turn her face towards yours softly. She brushes her nose against yours. “What’s up, sweetheart?”

“I’m scared,” she admits. “What will the people say?”

You kiss her softly, then move a couple inches from her face.

“Haiz, I love you. We won’t be able to control what the people think or say, but what’s important is that I love you. Always and always,” you tell her.

“You’re right, babe. I love you too. Fuck it, you’re my girl and I want people to know,” she says.

She takes the phone and posts the draft. It’s then that she shows you the post.

“I love it, baby,” you tell her.

“I love you so much,” she says.

It’s a simple photo of you and her snuggled into bed. Your face is partially buried in her neck.