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*

Hania

Hamza took me deep into the heart of London, and the drop in temperature made me think that we were close to the River Thames. He rode into the underground parking of a modern high-rise. 

"I don't recognise this place." I said, as we walked hand-in-hand towards a door that led to an unknown location- well, unknown to me. He entered a code and we heard a click as the door was released. We walked through and ended up into a posh lift area. Seriously, it looked like it belonged in a five star hotel. Ya Allah! Did he bring me to a hotel? I blushed at the thought.

He pressed the button for the twentieth floor and we waited patiently until we got to the level. We stepped out into a hallway with marble flooring and contemporary style lamps lined up onto the wall. There were four numbered doors, complete with a doorbell. Hotel or flat?

He stepped outside the door numbered 2025 and reached into his pocket for the keys. 

"I'm dying of suspense." I finally broke the silence between us. "Where are we?"

He pushed open the door and turned to look at me, grinning. "Welcome home, Mrs Hania Hamza." 

My jaw dropped open, partly at his words and partly at the sight before me. I stepped into a flat that was easily worth millions. The foyer was large and as I crossed it and stepped into the living room, I gasped at the view of London beneath me, including the infamous river and London Eye. The living room itself was large and decorated beautifully, with neutral colours. The sofas were cream coloured with cushions that were olive, black and cream with brown patterns, and the walls were a shade darker than the sofa. A gorgeous glass coffee table rested between the sofas, and one wall was taken over by a large plasma TV. 

Excitedly, I went through an adjoining door into the ultra-modern kitchen, with marble counters that matched the colour schemes of the living room. Just beside the fridge was a narrow floor-to-ceiling window, which meant that I could admire the view of London, even as I grabbed a snack.

"What do you mean, 'welcome home'?" I was absolutely astonished, turning to face my husband who was staring at me with a fond look on his face.

"I mean, this is where we're moving after rukhsati. And all the furniture is ours." He winked at me.

"This is our home?!" I shrieked, and then felt embarrassed.

"I figured, why not take you for a date at our future home instead of at a restaurant." He grabbed my hand. "Let me give you a tour."

My heart was dancing in excitement, and I thought how romantic this was, having a date at a place where we were going to eventually live together.

He led me down the hall and pushed open a set of double doors. "This, sweetheart, is the master bedroom."

"Allah!" Wide eyed, I entered the huge room, with large windows that also looked out over London. On one side of the room was the double bed, and the wardrobes, and by the windows were two sofas and a coffee table. There was also a large plasma screen TV directly opposite the bed. But the real surprise was when I saw Hamia on the middle of the bed by the pillows. "How is Hamia here?" 

"I might have snuck it over while I was over at your place yesterday." He shrugged, sheepishly. "I wanted Hamia to be a part of this surprise."

"Hamza." I stepped closer to my husband, placing my hands on his shoulders. He wore the same outfit that he was wearing the day we met, including the leather jacket. He pressed his forehead against mine, both of our breathing quickened by the proximity. 

Impatient, I leaned up and kissed him, clasping my hands together behind his neck. Another wall that I had held up to protect myself came crashing down, because Hamza had rapidly winning my trust. I think along with trust, he had also earned my heart. I was slowly, but surely, falling for him.

Our lips moved in perfect sync until I felt his hands brush my bare waist, probably by accident. I jumped back, startled.

"Sorry." He actually looked embarrassed. "That was unintentional, I swear."

There was a very thin line between us that I didn't want to cross before rukhsati. I stood there, feeling myself turn red with embarrassment, my gaze on the floor.

"Shall we eat?" He suggested and I nodded.

We walked back to the kitchen, avoiding touching this time. 

"The food should actually be arriving any minute now. I estimated this time for delivery." He couldn't meet my gaze.

He had ordered some Middle Eastern food, and the only things that I recognised were kebabs and pita bread, and salad of course. I only prefer Chinese or Italian, apart from our Pakistani food of course. I've never really been the type of person to try new foods as I have a bit of a particular taste. I'd rather stick to things that I was familiar with. But I didn't want him to feel bad, so I ate the food that I recognised. It was the right decision because the kebabs were absolutely delicious.

"So, do you like this?" He glanced around at the flat. We were sitting side by side on bar stools at the kitchen isle, the food spread out in front of us.

"I love it." I said, honestly. "And the view is stunning." I paused. "Good location for your photography, don't you think?"

"Good idea. We'll take some photos after lunch." 

****

"Let's play a getting to know each other game." Hamza suggested.

"Okay? How do we play that?"

"Well, actually, it's not exactly a game, just questions and answers to get to know each other better." 

"Okay." I shrugged. 

We stood on the balcony, watching the view.

"Place of birth?" Hamza started off.

"Lahore." I smiled, proudly.

"Glasgow." 

"I love the Scottish accent." I said, absent-mindedly as I watched a plane fly overhead, thousands of feet above us.

"Only on me, I hope?" He teased, nudging me slightly with my shoulder.

"We'll see." I smiled cheekily at him. "Okay. Siblings?"

"No biological, but Rabia is like a sister to me." 

"And you've met my sister." My tone turned bitter. 

"Favourite relative? Apart from your parents and Iman, of course." He asked, studying my expression carefully.

"My Dado. I wish she lived with us, but she refuses to come here." I looked at him. "What about you?" 

"My Nano for me." He said. "She still lives in Glasgow with Mum, but she and and I are incredibly close, despite my relationship with my mother." 

His mother. That was one subject that I wanted to know about, but I wasn't sure if I should ask yet.

"Your turn to ask." He said when I didn't speak for a few moments.

"Favourite food?" I asked.

"Any chicken curry. I'm obsessed with chicken." 

"I love pasta, as well as rice dishes." 

"Okay, pretend I just met you. How will you describe Hania to me? Who is Hania?" He leaned against the railing, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Hania is an introvert who loves reading and writing, and who loves spending time with her family." I shrugged. "Who is Hamza?" 

"Hamza is a photographer, a man with a passion from travelling. He loves motorcycles and sports. He's generally useless at cooking, but he can make absolutely delicious chicken wraps and brownies." 

"Well, I'm a foodie." I smiled. "I would love to try your chicken wraps and brownies." 

He stepped towards me and our faces were just inches apart as I stared into his mesmerising eyes. My heart was pounding hard at my breathing rate started to increase rapidly. I started playing with my charm bracelet again, and my eyes closed as if on instinct. 

"Shall we take some photos?" He words made my eyes open and I saw the amusement in his eyes.

"S-Sure." I was flustered.

****

Of course, those photos involved me, as he made me pose on the balcony. This time he got out his professional camera, which was kept in a wardrobe in the bedroom. The way he took photos showed his passion for it, if that makes sense. He was really into it and looked complete at ease while doing it.

As he took photos of the view, I studied him. He was handsome, no doubt, but, more importantly, he was genuinely a caring and selfless guy. He wasn't the jerk that I'd thought that he was. Maybe some of his flaws were due to the uncaring way that his mother had raised him apparently, because it was very important for kids to feel loved. But you know what? We all have flaws, and I have accepted him with all his flaws, just as he has accepted me with mine.

He looked up suddenly and met my gaze. "My heart cannot tolerate the way those gorgeous eyes examine me."

I laughed, blushing at the same time. "Why are you so cheesy?"

"Why are you so cute?" 

I rolled my eyes, then I nodded towards his camera. "Can I try?"

"Nobody touches my baby." He gasped in mock horror.

I widened my eyes pleadingly at him. I've learnt that trick from Mama, when she thinks that I wasn't paying attention. She uses that trick to convince Papa. Like mother, like daughter.

"You emotional blackmailer." He handed his camera over to me. "You can probably even convince me to rip my heart out of my chest and hand it to you."

"You haven't fallen in love with me or anything, have you?" I spoke without thinking as I raised the camera up.

A thick silence fell between us, and only then did I realise what I'd just said.

Ya Allah, why is my foot regularly in my mouth these days?! I groaned internally.

"Pyar hua hai ya nahin, pata nahin. Laikin ho jaye ga, is baat main koi shak nahin." He whispered.

*"I don't know if I've fallen in love, but it will happen, there's no doubt about that."

I think I stopped breathing. Unfazed, my husband stood behind me and guided me into taking a good photo, but I wasn't paying attention. How do guys have the ability to say such things so casually, and then just casually move on from the topic?

And suddenly, neither of us were paying attention to the photography. He kissed my cheek, and then trailed kisses down to my neck. How was I supposed to concentrate on anything but his lips brushing softly against my skin?

I turned in his arms, setting the camera down on the small garden table beside us. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I started kissing him again. I was seriously attracted to him and I liked kissing him a lot. The feeling seemed to be mutual, because he kissed me back just as eagerly. 

"Hamza?"

"Hmm?" He continued kissing me.

"I really like you." I admitted. "More than friends, I mean."

He looked amused. "I sure hope so, considering that we're husband and wife."

"I just wanted you to know that." I kissed his rough cheek. I found his stubble incredible s*xy, which I would never admit out loud for anything in the world.

"Well, Han, I like you too as more than friends." He chuckled.

Smiling at each other, we embraced. Hugging him actually felt just as good as kissing him. I liked being in his arms, like I was created to fit in there perfectly. Hania belongs to Hamza, and vice versa.

Our beautiful moment was ruined by the typical ringtone of an iPhone. 

"F**k." Hamza pulled away, keeping one arm around me. I played with the lapels of his jacket as he stared at the caller ID. "Mum."

"It must be important." I admit, I was really curious about my mother-in-law. I didn't like her very much, based on everything Hamza had told me, but I still wanted to know more.

He looked at me. "Babe, my mother is not like Jasmina Aunty. For Mum, important means asking her son for money to pay for her cigarettes because she has run out." Shaking his head, he answered the phone. "Assalam Alaikum." His frown deepened as he listened to her. "Papa gave you a suggestion not to smoke in front of Nano so much, due to her respiratory condition, but you are too proud to even accept a well-intended advice." He sighed. "May Allah help her recover soon. Ameen. I'm coming. Take care of her." He hung up, shaking his head.

"Is your Nano okay?" I asked worriedly.

"She was having difficulty breathing, so she had to be hospitalised." He looked worried. "She's suffering the consequences of my mother's selfishness."

"So, are you going to Glasgow?"

"I am. Nano hasn't done anything wrong. She actually loves me." He sighed, looking up and meeting my gaze. "Please pray for her, Han. She means a lot to me."

"In Sha Allah, she'll be fine. And I will pray for her." I paused. "You know, I was meant to head back to Edinburgh anyway to get my things. I'll go with you, meet your Nano, and then take the train to Edinburgh from here."

"You would do that?" He looked surprised.

"Well, technically, she is my Nano-in-law now." I smiled, shyly. To be honest, I was surprised by my own impulsive decision as well. I was that one daughter of my parents who never took any decisions without consulting her parents first. However, since this was about my in-laws, I felt like it was okay for me to do so. I was still going to discuss this with them of course. 

"You know that you're kind of amazing, right?" He pulled me back into his arms, and I felt fully content after a long time.

****

Iman

I walked into the kitchen, where Mama was just finishing up preparing dinner. "Can I help, Mama?"

"I'll manage." She didn't even look at me as she turned off the stove and turned to clear up the counters. "For your information, your father and I will be going to drop Hania and Hamza off to the airport, as she is going to Scotland with him."

"Okay." I waited for her to tell me to stay in the house, or to not go out, or anything. But she didn't. She didn't even ask me to go with them. "Mama, I know that I've hurt you both." 

"You always do." She kept her back towards me. "You just don't care." 

"I do care!" I tried to explain myself. "I just..." 

She finally turned around. "Dinner's ready. You want it, go ahead. If you don't, order out. Your choice." She began to walk past me.

"What can I do to earn your forgiveness?"

She looked at me, her eyes filled with sadness. "I don't even know right now, Iman. As your parents, this is incredibly difficult for us, but you forced us to take this step." 

I nodded. I absolutely agreed with that. "I'll give you the money back. I haven't spent it." 

"That's the problem, Iman." She shook her head, disappointed. "You don't even realise that it's not about the money. You don't realise what you've done! Hania almost died because of your disobedience and rebellious nature! You repeatedly broke my trust as well as your Papa's, and you've constantly hurt us. Only my Allah can help you see the right way now, because clearly we're hopeless at parenting you." With tears in her eyes, she left.

Hurting your parents is considered one of the most major sins in the world. I've never, ever seen Mama or Papa even snap at their own parents. 

"Humain andaaza bhi nahin hota laikin hum duniyai cheezon ki khatir apni akhirat kharab kar detay hain." Nano had told me once. This basically meant that for the sake of materialistic, worldly stuff, we ruin our Afterlife.

I may be living my life in a 'free' way, but what was the point of this freedom when I didn't have my parents' blessings?  And if my parents' blessings weren't with me, I wouldn't have Allah's support either, especially considering that I had seriously hurt them.

I now had to make a decision: did I want to please people that wouldn't give a care about me in tough times, or do I want to receive my parents' blessings and try to amend things for my Afterlife, which was what mattered for Muslims?

****

Hania

We were flying to Glasgow on the last flight of the day, and my parents had come to see us off.

"Are you seriously taking a stuffed toy with you like you used to as a child?" Papa teased me, glancing at Hamia in my arm.

"Hamia's her baby, not a stuffed toy, Fawad." Mama tried to keep a serious expression on her face, but she burst out laughing. "We're grandparents already, jaan."

"Mama!" I blushed, letting my hair drop forward to cover my red face.

"I'm going to miss you guys." I whispered, hugging Mama first.

"I'll miss you as well, babe. Call me when you get there." She kissed my cheek. "Please keep in touch with Iman, even when you're there. I hate the idea of making her feel truly alone." 

"I will." I promised her, kissing her cheek in return. Then I hugged Papa.

He kissed the top of my head. "You have the hotel room sorted, right? Let me know when you're all checked in."

"I will, Papa. In Sha Allah."

"In Sha Allah." And then he basically said the same thing. "Keep checking in on Iman. As parents we're trying to teach her a lesson, but you continue on with her as normal, just so she doesn't feel too alone."

"Even while teaching us a lesson, you guys are still such softies." I muttered, not wanting to let go of him. "I love you both so much."

We parted ways with my parents. I felt nervous, leaving my loving parents behind to go and meet my scary sounding mother-in-law for the first time. Ya Allah, please protect me.

Hamza respected my parents enough not to hold my hand until we were through security, even though they wouldn't have said anything.

"Will your mother hate me?" I asked, worriedly, as we headed towards the gate.

"It's not possible for anyone to hate you, Hania. I keep telling you that." He squeezed my hand, giving me a smile.

"But what if she does?"

"Then just remember that she doesn't even like me, if that would make you feel better." He was trying to sound casual about it, but I could still sense the hurt behind those words.

"It's not possible for anyone to not like you, Hamza Daniyal." I muttered. "I mean, once you shed your bad boy façade, and people get to know the real you." 

We shopped around duty free for a while, before heading for our gate.

Ya Allah, give me strength to face Hamza's mother.

****

The next part is a completely new addition to the story, as I wanted to give the LSF characters a story as well.

****

Omar

"Assalam Alaikum."  I entered the living area where my parents were sitting having tea.

"Walaikum Assalam!" They both replied, smiling at me.

Since Saad had moved out with his family, Mamma had been very quiet and disturbed. She had been shaken by his treatment of Iman, and had refused to even look at him for a long time.

"Bhai ke aagay main apna moun dikhanay ke laik nahin rahi." She had said, tearfully.

*"I'm unable to face my brother now." 

"Idhar aao. Mere paas aakay betho, Omar." Mamma patted the sofa beside her.

*"Come here. Sit beside me."

"I'll just wash up and come, Mamma. As you know, I just came from the hospital." I smiled at her before heading out and upstairs to my room.

Like my Nana Jaan, I had chosen the field of neurology, but instead of working at a private hospital, I worked at a clinic that was supported by Zoya Aunty's charity. It was especially for the people who were unable to pay for the expensive treatments. The charity supported them with the medical bills, after all, everyone deserves a good treatment. 

After washing up, I returned downstairs and sat besides Mamma. "How are your legs now? You said they'd been aching a lot lately. Did the balm work for you, the one I got for you?" 

"The balm is amazing. Thank you, Omar." She said, putting her hand over mine and squeezing it.

I noticed them exchange a look. "Everything okay?" 

"Beta, hamari nazar main aapke liye ek ladki hai." Mamma told me, setting her tea cup down. "Papa ke ek senior colleague hain, unki beti hai. Bohat achi bachi hai, bohat sharif. Hum mile hai us se ek do dafa, dinners pe."

*"Dear, we've found a girl as a potential match for you."
"She's the daughter of one your Papa's senior colleagues. She's a very good girl, very decent. We've met her a few times at dinner."

"Agar aap kehte hain to hum jaake milte hain unse?" Papa added.

*"If you say, we'll go meet them."

"Kaun hain woh?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

"Her name is Zunaira Mushtaq. She has studied Interior Designing, and is working at a company as a junior designer." Mamma explained. "She seems well mannered and respectful, Ma Sha Allah." 

"It is up to you, Mamma and Papa. I'm happy with whatever you decide for me." I said, obediently. 

"Mera bacha." Mamma put her hands on my cheeks, pulling me forward and kissing my forehead. 

*"My son." 

"Where's Zaid?" I looked around. "Isn't he back yet?" 

"He went with Ibrahim." Mamma looked annoyed.

"Mamma, what's the problem? He's Arhaan Uncle's son." I couldn't understand why she didn't like Zaid hanging out with the kids of that family- with the exception of Ismael.

"Ibrahim is a sweet boy," Mamma sighed. "But he's trouble, and I don't want Zaid involved in that. If Ibrahim gets caught, his money and family influence can get him out of trouble, but if Zaid gets in trouble, he will suffer and so will your father's reputation." 

"Mamma, even Ahad Uncle is from that family, and yet he and Papa are best friends." I pointed out. I froze. "You're not worried about Ibrahim's influence, are you? You are worried about the influence Iman is having on everyone."

Mamma didn't reply, but stared down in her lap.

"Mamma, what Saad did, it wasn't Iman's fault."

"I know, Omar!" She looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "I don't blame Iman for that. And Ya Allah, I love that girl dearly. But she's...she's not a good influence, I'm sorry to say. Hania is perfect, she's the perfect combination of Bhai and Bhabi, but Iman is too out of control, and I don't want Zaid anywhere near her influence. That's why I keep him away when the cousins are out together."

"Khuda ke vaaste, Fariha, yeh baat Bhai aur Bhabi ke saamne na keh dena. Unhain kitna bura lagay ga." Papa said to her.

*"For God's sake Fariha, don't say this in front of Bhai and Bhai. They'll feel so bad."

"I've already spoken to them." Mamma said. "I've apologised to them when they asked me why I never allow Zaid to go with the cousins. And Bhai said that I was doing the right thing." 

"Fawad Mamu ki beti hai, Mamma. Sahi raaste pe aajayegi, In Sha Allah." I said. "Kuch log raasta bhool jaate hain, laikin unki tarbeeyat aur Maa Baap ki sikhayi hui baatein unhain sahi raaste pe le hi aati hai."

*"She's Fawad Mamu's daughter, Mamma. She will come back on the right path, In Sha Allah."
"Some people go astray, but their upbringing and parents' teachings bring back back on the right path."

"Not all of them come back." Mamma sighed, thinking of Saad probably.

"Papa, namaaz ka time ho gaya hai. Masjid chalain?" I suddenly looked at the time on the wall clock.

*"Papa, it's prayer time. Shall we go to the mosque?"

"Let's go." Papa stood up immediately. "Fariha,  I'll briefly discuss Omar's rishta with Mushtaq Sahab, okay? I'll update you." 

Mamma nodded. "Acha hai. Hamare ghar main bhi bahu ki raunak aaye. Madiha jab se gayi hai, udaasi si ho gayi hai ghar main."

*"That's good. We should get some liveliness in our home due to our daughter-in-law as well. Since Madiha left, the house is quiet and sad."

I smiled, shaking my head. Mothers!

****

Noor

"Noor!" Mama entered the room. "What are you doing?" 

I stepped back away from the mirror, my cheeks warm. "Mama, I..."

She glanced at my books, untouched on my bed. "Why are you never actually studying when you claim that you are?" 

Because I've changed my mind. I don't want to be a dentist anymore. I want to go into acting. But I didn't open my mouth. 

"I was bored, Mama." I whispered. I walked over to her and grabbed her hand and pulled her towards my bed, where I made her sit. I sat down facing her, and wrapped a finger around one of my curls. I had inherited her natural curls. "Mama, I think it's about time I come clean." 

The issue with my passion for acting wasn't really my parents' permission. Even if they agreed, I wasn't confident enough with my body. I had inherited Mama's curls, but not her slim figure. I was curvy, and even though Mama told me to accept and love myself for who I was (as long as I was healthy, I felt insecure. I guess that's part of the reason I loved hanging out with the cool gang of cousins. They accepted me as one of their own, and doing cool things together with them made me feel like I belonged somewhere.

"Mama, I don't want to be a dentist anymore." I said. "I've lost all interest in it." 

She looked confused. "What made you change your mind?" 

"Mama, I want to go into acting." I said, dropping my gaze.

There was a silence and I was afraid to look at her.

"I know that I'm curvy and not beautiful as per society's standards..." 

"No, Noor. Stop." She told me firmly. "You're beautiful exactly the way you are." She squeezed my hands. "Look, sweetie, this will sound hypocritical because I was an actress as well, but think hard before you decide to go into this field. It's a harsh, critical field, and I don't mean because of your appearance." 

"So, is that a no?" 

"No, I'm just saying that only consider this if you are absolutely certain." She said. "I'll speak to your Papa as well." 

"Will he be disappointed in me for not choosing dentistry?" 

"He just wants what makes you happy." She said. "And what's best for you, of course." She kissed my forehead. "But let me tell you one thing clearly, Noor Ahad Sheikh: if anyone ever criticises you for your appearance, I want you to overlook their comments okay? Allah created you the way you are, and his Creations are not flawed. The flaw is in the way humans view things." 

"I love you, Mama." 

"I love you too, baby girl." 

We heard Papa yelling angrily.

"Ya Allah, what did Bilal do now?" Mama rolled her eyes and rushed out to act as a referee between the equally hot-headed father and son.

****

Ibrahim

"So, you never had a thing for our Mani?" Zaid asked me casually as we played video games together in my room.

I was too busy trying to fight back zombies to answer him.

"Ibbi!" He called out.

"What?" 

"Did you ever have a thing for Iman?" 

"For Iman?" I scoffed. "No, of course not!"

I was blatantly lying to him. The truth was that I did have a crush on Iman, but there was no point. Papa had strictly warned me not to think of her that way, as he had said that Fawad Uncle and Jasmina Phupho didn't intend to marry off their daughters into cousins.

I frowned. "You better not think of her that way."

"Why do you sound so possessive?" He smirked.

"Because she's my Phupho's daughter." I said, smoothly.

"Well, she's also my Mamu's daughter." 

"If you dare, ask your Mamu about it then." I shot back.

There was a knock on the door. 

"Come in!" I yelled out.

Mama entered the room.

*Just to clarify, Ibrahim calls Nazia 'Mama', as she's all he has known.

"Ibrahim, what have you done to this room?" She said in a disapproving manner. "And Ya Allah, open the windows!" 

"The AC is on, Mama!" 

"The AC is not fresh air!" She walked over to the balcony doors of my room and opened them. "And, you both have been playing this for hours. Go outside for a bit, come on." She reached down to gather the tray and discarded wrappers and empty glasses that once contained fizzy drink.

"Mama, we're not children." 

"Ibrahim." She gave me a warning look.

I sighed. "Fine, let's go for a swim then, Zee." 

"I better go home actually, before Mamma sends Papa after me." Zaid stood up. "Thank you for the snacks, Aunty." 

"It's not  a problem, Zaid. I've kept some boxes of food downstairs, take them with you. Tell Fariha that I tried a new recipe and I want her opinions on it." 

"Yes, Aunty. Allah Hafiz."

"Allah Hafiz."

Zaid left.

"Ibrahim, can I give you an advice?" 

"Sure, Mama." I began to clear up the game.

"I unintentionally overheard what you were saying about Iman." She said. "You shouldn't talk about her that way. She's a non-mehram to you both, cousin or not. She's your Phupho's daughter, so for Jasmina's sake, stop okay?" 

"Sorry, Mama." I felt embarrassed. I didn't want to be that stereotypical rich boy who treated girls like objects. My parents had raised me better than that. 

"Good boy." She smiled. "Now go out and get some fresh air, you mischievous boy!" She lovingly pulled my ear.

I laughed. "I'll go right away, Mama." 

****

The parts about the cousins was for a proper storyline for them.

How will Hania's first meeting with her mother-in-law be?

Are you guys liking Omar's character? Want to read more about him?

Thoughts and comments?

Thank you for reading and don't forget to vote.