“Have you read the latest review from FreshPotatoes?!” Wendy exclaimed.

Irene who had been at her desk, writing, peered up for a moment and nodded calmly.

“I cannot believe they said that you were trying to gain more readers by giving a cliché happy ending for your latest novel. Like have they read the book properly? Have they?!” Wendy cried out exasperatedly as she flung herself onto their bed and flailed about.

Amused by her girlfriend’s antics, the author could not help but let out a chuckle but stopped immediately when she saw that her girlfriend did not share her amusement.

Wendy had sat up straight and was shot Irene a look of disbelief. “How could you still laugh when they are slandering you.”

The author gave a nonchalant shrug and a small sigh in response as she got up from her writing desk and sat by her fuming girlfriend’s side. “Well… this is the price of fame. People like to talk ill about others who have succeeded and we’ve just got to accept it… because it is part of our job.”

Wendy threw up her arms in defeat at the author’s words and flung herself back into the bed once more as she mumbled. “Right, they are just jealous of the happy stuff that we did.”

Irene nodded, still trying to restrain her laughter. She thought that her journalist of a girlfriend should have been more familiar with receiving criticisms than anyone, but she did not behave so or perhaps… it was because Wendy felt more agitated whenever Irene was involved. The author smiled inwardly, she liked this overprotective side of Wendy so much. Those past two years of them being together only made Irene love the girl more and Irene knew that her girlfriend shared the same feelings.

“Anyway, about the last scene. Are you hinting at me to get you a ring or something?” Wendy asked suddenly.

Irene suddenly felt her face turn hot. “W-W-What?”

Wendy smirked. Two years of being with Irene had taught her many things, and one of it was how to tease the author. Usually calm and collected before others, the author could also be easily flustered whenever Wendy said or did something unexpected for her. One of which was to bring her on a trip to see the Northern Lights in Iceland which helped inspire one of the scenes in Irene’s book. The two homebodies had never been so awestruck by the beauty of nature before and ever since then, Wendy promised that she would continue to think of ways to make life as interesting for the both of them as possible. Perhaps… this was the next moment.

“I don’t know. Your last scene ended with the male lead presenting the female lead with a carved wooden ring.” Wendy teased further and grinned slyly when she saw Irene blink in nervousness.

“That is just… cause I was in the mood to give them a fluffier, happy ending.” Irene explained unconvincingly.

“Oh sure, you definitely are chartering into the fluffy romance novel genre.” Wendy cooed and witnessed the same cute scowl whenever Irene felt disgusted.

“No, I won’t be known as an author who writes that genre!” Irene said firmly and went back to her writing desk, scrawling on her papers, an angry pout lingered on her face.

This time round, it was Wendy who walked over to Irene’s side and she patted her pant pockets excitedly as she did so. The journalist had rehearsed this scene so many times in her mind, feeling suddenly nervous and her former humorous self melted away. In fact, nervous was an understatement. Would she accept it?

“Yo, you mad at me?” Wendy asked, her vo