This just about sums up my grandmother who come of age in 1920's London, married an earnest and handsome boy from the country, moved to America, curated epic picnics in cherry orchards, danced in the kitchen, built forts out of sofa cushions, volunteered at the children's hospital, drank whiskey, drove too fast, read veraciously, loved adventures, recited poetry, had tea parties, loved Hallowe'en, and ventured into scary biker clubhouses to "make sure the boys were eating well".
Zayn I'm done with you. Every little bit of hope that I had left that you might return to one direction is now shattered. Thanks for hurting all of is. How dare you say what you did to Louis. He's your brother!! I hope you come to your senses and realize what you did was so wrong and that I won't be here for you if you do want to come back. I've lost all respect I had for you. Bye Zayn