Novel & Cerita It Ends With Us Age Rating

Was it safe to call this a happy ending? ~THE END~

We can't just— But Justin met her gaze. The look was brief. Quiet. Almost imperceptible to anyone who wasn't paying attention. But something passed between them—something that felt like a question and an answer all at once. His eyes softened, and he gave the smallest shake of his head, as if to say, Don't. Not now. Not when she's this happy. "With Momma," Justin added calmly, glancing down at Kiara. "Only if Momma comes too." Kiara nodded eagerly, her pigtails bouncing. "Of course with Momma! Momma has to come! She can push me on the swing! Momma gives the best pushes. She pushes me higher than anyone."

Morgan copied the grown-ups and said with sarcasm, "She's finally figured it out and knows to buy what I like. It must be the limited-edition race car model I have wanted forever!" He ran and tore the present's wrappings open. However, there was no race car model. Instead, there was a massive photograph inside. It was the photo of Samuel, Rachel, and Morgan under the snowy peaks of Wintercrown, with a card sitting beside it with one line. "Congratulations on getting a new mom, Morgan."

Bella I was thinking about the movie as we walked out of the theater. I had really only paid attention at the end, when the mother looked at her new baby and said that line: ‘It ends with you, it ends with me, it ends with us.’ A few minutes later, the credits rolled. I could always watch it again. That is, if I could stop my brain from replaying this whole night on a loop. The song playing over the credits was one I love, so I sang along softly as we joined the crowd heading for the exit.

I snap up a handful and toss some in my mouth as the review of the last episode plays and the credits roll. Adult language. Adult situations. Brief nudity. That's what the parental ratings warn us of. It is so, so wrong.

Mia hopes the ruckus didn't wake up Roman as she hastily picks the hardbacks when a polaroid slips off between the pages. In the picture, a grinning Killian was arm in arm with an older-looking version of Roman with what seemed like a garden and a single huge tree in the background.

Always. The wind died down. And just like that, the voice faded away. The End.

Four years ago, I moved to that tiny town, determined to start over. But "starting over" is easier said than done. Riley's social media was a constant parade of perfection—safaris in Africa, handmade rings, cutesy couple avatars, trips back to her hometown to visit the elderly with Owen by her side. The news was plastered with Owen's heroics. Even the corner store cashier couldn't stop talking about the biggest undercover takedown in a decade.

"So what, Dawn? Our wedding's next week. If we break up now, how will you explain it to your family?" Noelle immediately burst into tears. "I'm sorry, Dawn. I'll end the pregnancy right away." Blake instantly pulled her into his arms and glared at me coldly. "Don't you dare! Dawn Nichols, you had an abortion before—who knows if you can even still have children. You should be thanking Noelle instead. "The fact that I'm still willing to go through with the wedding with you is already more than generous enough. You're such a slut—who else other than me would even want you?"

My body shook uncontrollably. My teeth sank into my lip, hard enough to draw blood, as I opened the user's profile with trembling hands. Only a blank page was shown. The notification read, 'You're unable to view the user's profile due to their preference.' She blocked me, or specifically, the account I was using right now. The account "Witchy_Mona_1" belonged to my best friend, Ramona Jones. We were roommates for four years. Food, clothes, secrets—we had shared everything.