Book Review: The Summer I Turned Pretty

 I’m probably the last person on earth to read The Summer I Turned Pretty. Everyone else seems to have already picked a team, argued about it online, and made TikToks. Meanwhile, here I am, just casually starting book one like it’s 2010.

Disclaimer first: I hardly scroll TikTok, so I came into this series with absolutely zero spoilers. People around me were talking about it, but honestly, it just never registered in my brain. So when I picked up the book, I had no context at all and I couldn’t even picture the actors because in my head, the characters look completely different anyway.

Jenny Han has been a favorite of mine since To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before. The books had so much more depth than the movies, though the movies were still sweet (thanks to Iman for making me watch them, I did enjoy it). So naturally, I thought The Summer I Turned Pretty might be the same. Maybe the books would hold more weight than the series. But before I judge, I’ll need to finish the books first… and then maybe binge the show as “research.”

Let’s start with Belly’s little summer romance with Cam. Cute? Yes. Serious? Not really. At sixteen, those butterflies feel like the biggest thing in the world, but looking back now at 30, it’s easy to brush it off as just a fleeting moment. Adult life has a way of dulling those sparks. And yet, that’s exactly why books like this are so comforting because they let me slip back into that younger self and relive those feelings again, even if only for a while.

And then of course, the big question: Jeremiah or Conrad?

The 30-year-old me says Jeremiah without hesitation. He puts in the effort, he’s present, he’s honest about his feelings. It just makes sense. But if I’m honest about my 16-year-old self? I would have chosen Conrad in a heartbeat. Because at that age, there’s something irresistible about the mystery, the walls someone puts up, the challenge of wanting to be the one to “figure him out.” Looking back now, it feels exhausting, but at sixteen, it feels like love.

What also stood out to me was how much the story wasn’t just about Belly, it was also about Suzannah, and the heaviness that hung over the family. The tension between the boys reminded me that people often forget how vulnerable boys can be too. They don’t always cry or talk about it the way girls do; sometimes they rebel, sometimes they shut down. It’s still sadness and it just looks different. (That’s the mom in me speaking, I guess.)

I also really appreciated how Jeremiah handled things when Belly didn’t feel the same way. He didn’t hold it against her. He understood. That quiet maturity really stayed with me.

In the end, love is messy. It can’t come from guilt or sympathy, because then it isn’t really love, it just hurts everyone involved.

So here I go, onto book two. Hopefully, it goes deeper.

Book Review: Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin

I have such a complicated, love-hate relationship with this book. I went in wanting to love it as much as everyone else seemed to, but from the beginning it just didn’t land for me. It had that “Intermezzo” vibe, something melancholic, artistic, full of potential, but the slow start and scattered themes kept me at a distance instead of pulling me in.

I did appreciate the author’s effort in tying up loose ends, exploring trauma, and giving each character a layered backstory. But part of what turned me off early on was the Israel narrative. Dov’s family in Israel, and that particular remark about how American Jews know so little about the country, really rubbed me the wrong way. With everything happening in the world right now, it felt tone-deaf. Maybe I’m biased because I’m pro-Palestine, but it immediately created a barrier between me and the story.

And then there was Dov himself. His relationship with Sadie, if we can even call it that, was disturbing. The power imbalance between professor and student, the S&M, and ultimately the abortion she endured (spoiler alert!) really unsettled me. Sadie’s insistence that she “consented” to whatever he wanted, even at her expense, felt hollow. It was painful to read, and I hated it. But I’ll give the author credit, it was written in a way that made me feel that discomfort, and I did feel awful for Sadie.

What struck me more, though, was Sadie’s experience as a woman in a male-dominated space. As a minority in the programming world at MIT, she constantly had to prove her worth. Worse, some of her artistic contributions were overshadowed, with Sam getting more credit than she did. That imbalance, where men have it easier while women fight for recognition, rang painfully true.

Sam, on the other hand, was a character I struggled with. His trauma and tragedy made me empathize with him, but his dynamic with Sadie was complicated. I kept trying to understand them, and in the end, I was relieved that their bond never turned into a conventional romance. What they shared, creating games, building worlds together, was something unique, and honestly more intimate than a romantic storyline would’ve been.

Then there’s Marx. Oh, Marx. He became the heart of the story for me. The moment his presence grew, the book finally clicked. He was the glue between Sadie and Sam, the caretaker, the one who brought balance to the chaos. Even when Sadie and Sam resisted his involvement in Ichigo, he supported them anyway. And when he literally took the bullet to save them, it shattered me. His death felt like the true tragedy of the book. I wanted so badly for Sadie and Marx to have their chance at happiness, but it was stolen away.

After that, watching Sam and Sadie drift further apart was heartbreaking, even though I couldn’t blame Sadie for needing distance. Still, I admired Sam’s attempt to reconnect. His creation of Pioneer, the secret game designed as a bridge to reach her again, was brilliant. That storyline, and the games themselves, were some of my favorite parts of the book. I’m not even a gamer, but I found myself wishing those games were real.

By the time I reached the end, I realized I didn’t actually dislike the book as much as I thought. It grew on me, but only from the middle onwards. Maybe it was my expectations that dragged down my experience. I thought it would be a solid 4-star read. Instead, for me, it’s a 3. There were moments of brilliance, moments that broke me, and moments that made me angry. But in the end, the fact that I felt all of that means the book did its job, it just wasn’t always a pleasant journey.

What stayed with me most is how the book mirrors so many realities: power imbalances in relationships, women being overlooked in male-dominated spaces, the way trauma shapes people differently, and how friendships can be just as profound, sometimes even more so, than romantic love. It made me angry, it made me sad, but it also made me reflect on how much of this exists in the real world around us. And maybe that’s why, even though I didn’t love the book the way I hoped, I can’t dismiss it either.

 

What Ifs and What Is

 I can be an overthinker. Not in life, but in my imagination.

When I read a book or watch a movie, I linger on the characters.

It’s fiction, but I dwell:

How did they become who they are?

What happened in the spaces the story never told?

What if they were thrown into a different plot? Would they still grow the same way?

Sometimes, I carry these characters with me for days.

And I marvel, how incredible it is that Allah created a mind capable of wandering that far?

But also, how frightening!

Because the more I think, the more I see: 

Every twist could lead anywhere, every turn could change everything.

And isn’t that just like life?

As much as I love planning, making to-do lists, staying proactive, because if I don’t, I slack (and I can’t afford to; I’m not only a full-time worker, but a full-time mother, wife, and daughter too), overthinking life itself only makes me spiral.

Some things are simply uncontrollable, and some worries are unbearable.

So, I let God.

He is the Best Planner.

I don’t know what will happen one second from now.

I don’t know if the decision I’m about to make will be my best, or the one that breaks me.

So, I let God.

If it’s written for me, even if I dread it, it will find me.

If it’s not mine, even if I crave it, it will never stay.

Because what is meant for me will never pass me by,

And what is not meant for me will never be mine.

Book Review: Slow Dance by Rainbow Rowell

I’ve always loved Rowell’s books. I’ve read Eleanor & Park, Landline, Fangirl, Attachments—and when I saw Slow Dance, I was intrigued for three reasons:

A. It’s a Reese’s Book Club pick.

B. It came recommended by the author of Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow (which is now next on my list).

C. It has the “high school best friends turned lovers” theme, which I usually enjoy.

 

But despite all that, I only gave this book a 3. Here’s why:

I get the whole high school friends-to-lovers journey, but in this story it took 14 years, one failed marriage, and one broken engagement before it finally happened. That’s the added complexity, I suppose—but what frustrated me most was Shiloh constantly pushing Cary away, even though he was everything she clearly wanted. I just didn’t get it.

When I reflected on it, though, I realised Shiloh reminded me of my husband during the early days of our relationship. If I had let myself be swayed back then, I might’ve ended up with someone else, and I know that’s not what I wanted. Sometimes you just know from the beginning, right? Especially when pushing away is the only red flag, and everything else is green.

The book also tried to be inclusive by suggesting that Shiloh might be interested in women, making her bisexual. But honestly, that thread felt more like an add-on than a theme the author genuinely wanted to explore.

Then there were the family issues, so many of them left unresolved. I know that might have been intentional, but it didn’t work for me. It left the ending feeling a bit rushed and unsatisfying.

That said, I’ll always admire Rowell’s writing style. It’s moving, compelling, and no one does dialogue like she does. Plus, the email correspondence in this book gave me major Where Rainbows End (aka Love, Rosie) vibes, and that part, I loved.

Overall, Slow Dance wasn’t my ultimate favourite Rowell book, but it still had the familiar warmth and charm that makes her writing so easy to fall into. If you’re already a fan, it’s worth the read, just don’t expect all the threads to tie up neatly. For me, it was a reminder that sometimes stories, like relationships, are messy and imperfect and maybe that’s exactly the point.

Book Review: The Beekeeper of Aleppo by Christy Lefteri

Reading The Beekeeper of Aleppo left me with so many mixed emotions. It is not an easy book to go through, but it is a necessary one. Nuri, a beekeeper, and his wife Afra take us on their painful journey from Syria to Europe, showing the human face of the refugee crisis that often gets reduced to numbers and headlines.

As I turned the pages, I kept thinking about the unimaginable weight carried by refugees. Losing homes and loved ones to war is already devastating, yet the suffering does not end there. On their way to safety, they are forced to face the ugliest sides of humanity, human trafficking, exploitation, women being assaulted, children being separated from their parents, and even refugees being murdered for their organs.

At times, I had to pause and breathe because the imagery was so vivid and disturbing. What horrified me most was the thought that these aren’t just fictional events. Many of these stories were based on accounts that the author heard while volunteering in refugee camps in Greece. It is terrifying to think that some camps, which should be places of refuge, are instead grounds for exploitation.

The novel speaks powerfully about trauma, grief, and resilience. PTSD is not just mentioned, it is felt in the silences, in Afra’s blindness, in Nuri’s fragile grip on hope. The war doesn’t end when they cross a border; it continues to live inside them.

As I read, I couldn’t help but think of today’s refugees in Gaza, Sudan, and so many other parts of the world. Some conflicts receive international coverage, while others are forgotten. But the pain of displacement is universal. As a mother, the thought of children being separated from their parents shook me deeply. May Allah protect them and all of us :(

Christy Lefteri’s writing is both beautiful and haunting. She moves between the past in Aleppo and the present journey with such clarity that I was never lost, only carried deeper into their memories and pain. The perspective of a beekeeper adds a layer of symbolism, bees as life, fragility, and community, a reminder of what was lost and what still might be rebuilt.

Having read a few historical fictions on war and refugees before, I could sense where some parts of the story were heading. But that didn’t take away from its impact. What made this book stand out was the way it wove real voices and testimonies into fiction, making it feel authentic and necessary.

This book disturbed me, moved me, and made me reflect long after closing it. It is a reminder that refugees are not just statistics or “others,” but people with hopes, fears, and dignity, people who have endured both war and the exploitation of those who prey on desperation.

The Beekeeper of Aleppo is not a light read, but it is an important one.

 I would recommend it to anyone who wants to better understand the human side of displacement and survival.

I rate the book 4/5 as it's a beautifully written and powerful book that captures the refugee experience with honesty and compassion, though at times predictable in its plot.

The book is available for grab here :)

Book Review: The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini

 

The Kite Runner really stuck with me because it’s a brutal reminder that once war comes, nobody is safe. 

It doesn’t matter how rich, powerful, or secure you think you are; war doesn’t care. 

It turns people into refugees overnight, tears families apart, and reduces years of hard work into nothing more than stories you tell yourself. 

Imagine building a home with your own hands and hard-earned money, only to one day find strangers living in it. That kind of loss isn’t just about property; it’s about losing your sense of belonging.

It also features stories of people who stayed and those who left as refugees, 

highlighting the different hardships they endured.

And the most heartbreaking aspect is that these stories aren’t just part of history.

They mirror the ongoing realities faced today.

What makes this book hit even harder is how it weaves those big truths about war into something deeply personal. 

At its heart, it’s about Amir and Hassan. Hassan’s loyalty is pure and unwavering, but Amir’s insecurity and his desperate need for Baba’s approval push him to betray the one person who loved him most. 

Those scenes hurt to read because they remind us how our weaknesses, like fear, jealousy, and silence, can destroy the people who least deserve it.

Then there’s Amir and Baba’s relationship, which is just as heartbreaking. 

Amir spends his childhood feeling like he’ll never measure up, craving Baba’s approval, only to later learn that Baba himself was carrying secrets too heavy to share. 

The revelation that Hassan was Amir’s half-brother completely changes how you see everything,

the distance between father and son, Baba’s quiet guilt, even the invisible lines drawn by class and ethnicity. 

It’s betrayal layered on betrayal, of family, of trust, of truth itself.

The book also doesn’t shy away from the ugly realities of Afghanistan’s history: ethnic cleansing, the Shia-Sunni divide, and war fought in the name of religion. These aren’t just “political” issues; they’re human tragedies, and they leave scars that don’t just fade away with time.

By the end, I realised The Kite Runner isn’t just a story about Afghanistan. 

It’s about what it means to be human, how war can take everything you thought was permanent, how betrayal never really leaves you, and how painful redemption can be, but also how necessary. 

I closed the book with this ache in my chest, but also with the reminder that love, loyalty, and forgiveness, even when buried deep, are what keep us human.

Now, compared to A Thousand Splendid Suns, 

I didn’t cry while reading The Kite Runner. 

Both books overlap slightly (the orphanage with Zaman), 

but they tell such different stories. 

For me, the themes of motherhood and marriage in A Thousand Splendid Suns resonated so much louder, which is probably why I ended up favouring it. 

So while The Kite Runner is a great read, powerful, moving, and unforgettable, it’s not quite a full 5-star for me. More like a solid 4.

The book is also available here :)

Book Review: A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini

 I cried so much reading the latter part of this book. 

The earlier chapters stirred more rage than tears, rage at Rasheed, at the cruelty he inflicted, and at the twisted plans he concocted. I cursed the sky for the injustice of it all.

I’m grateful that Laila at least had a father who supported her dreams, though those dreams ultimately collapsed under the weight of war, a power-hungry society, and people who misused the name of God and religion to justify chaos, heartbreak, and suffering.

Then there’s Mariam, “the daughter of a harami,” as they called her. I could never understand men like her father, who already had three wives yet still pursued lust, made a maid pregnant, and refused to take full responsibility for his actions. Mariam’s only “sin” was being born, yet she bore the burden of shame and pain until her death. Married off against her will because her father would not protect her, his eventual attempt at reconciliation came far too late.

I was relieved when Mariam and Laila found companionship in each other, even within the suffocating walls of that abusive household. They became each other’s lifelines. Yes, what Laila did with Tariq was wrong, but Rasheed’s reaction; his twisted plots and unforgivable cruelty; revealed his selfish, violent nature. And the worst part? The system enabled him, in a world where women had no rights at all.

The values upheld by the Taliban were a far cry from true Islamic values, and reading this made me even more thankful to be born in Malaysia. Yet it also left me questioning: what can I do for my Muslim sisters around the world who are still suffering, oppressed, and silenced by such systems?

To be fair, it is wrong to judge all Muslim men as Rasheeds. There are Tariqs, and there are fathers like Laila’s and Tariq’s, men who value kindness, respect, and equality. At the end of the day, it comes down to individual character.

The part that broke me completely was Mariam’s punishment, the quiet courage she showed in her final moments, and Laila’s return to Mariam’s old home, imagining her younger self there. Those scenes left me speechless, powerless, and aching, because while this is a work of historical fiction, I know there are countless Mariams and Lailas still living similar tragedies today.

Rating: ★★★★★

A solid 5 stars. Khaled Hosseini masterfully wove plot, subplot, and character arcs with historical depth and emotional weight. It is dark, haunting, and heartbreaking, yet profoundly human. I understand why this book comes so highly recommended, but I’m glad I read it in my 30s. Through the lens of motherhood and marriage, the story resonated even more deeply, making it not just a novel I read, but one I felt.

Book Review: The Little Liar by Mitch Albom

 

I've shared this on my IG Story before, but I'm posting it here so it can reach non-followers who might find this review helpful.

This is my first book of historical fiction on the Holocaust, and it truly broke my heart. It breaks my heart that “Never Again” remains such a powerful lesson from history, yet one of the least heeded in the time we’re living in now. I wept reading this book. Not just for what was, but for what still is. I cried in a way words can’t fully capture because Mitch Albom’s descriptions echoed the reality faced by the people of Gaza today.

I don’t know where Mitch Albom stands on the issue of Palestine, but I hope that one day, he might write a story for them too 🇵🇸. Truth be told. Truth be told. Free free Palestine! 

All in all, it’s a 4 out of 5 stars for me! I only wish we had more stories about Nico. Still, here are my 10 favourite quotes from the book.

I also posted my review on Goodreads.

In a world full of lies, honesty glimmers like silver foil reflecting the sun 

Never be ashamed of a scar. In the end, scars tell the story of our lives, everything that hurt us and everything that healed us.

By the time you share what a loved one longs to hear, they often no longer need it.

A man, to be forgiven, will do anything.

Sometimes a lie is merely truth that is yet to happen.

A hard truth of war: grief does not take sides.

Sometimes, it is the truth that we don’t speak that echoes the loudest.

Dead men tell no lies, but their truths must be unearthed.

It’s easy to be nice when you get something in return. It’s harder when nobody knows the good you are doing except yourself.

Evil travels like dandelion seeds, blowing over borders and taking root in angry minds....all humans are inclined to hate others if they believe they are the cause of their unhappiness. The trick is to convince them.

Book Review: As Long As The Lemon Trees Grow by Zoulfa Katouh

I decided to be realistic and aim for one book per week, and proudly, I did it!

This week, I finished As Long as the Lemon Trees Grow, even while feeling under the weather. And what a powerful read it was.

Before I publish any review, my husband is always my number one listener. Page by page, chapter by chapter, he listens to my raw reactions and unfiltered emotions as I process the story. It’s become part of my reading ritual, and this time was no different.

Set in Syria, the book is a poignant, eye-opening narrative. In her acknowledgements, the author speaks of how little the world knows about Syria and how the media has failed to portray the full extent of the atrocities committed during the civil war. I have to admit, I too wasn’t fully aware of the depth of the conflict. This book served as both a wake-up call and a learning experience.

The pain endured by the civilians in Syria felt heartbreakingly similar to what we’re seeing in Gaza today. It crushed my soul to read about children living in fear, hospitals being bombed, and premature babies needing to be rescued from exploding medical centres. People running for their lives, leaving behind everything they knew, their homes, their memories, their identities, just to survive.

Many of us don’t truly understand the trauma refugees live with. Through the character of Khawf and the haunting experiences of Layla and baby Salama, the author paints a brutally honest picture. I had literal goosebumps. Imagine living every day with death surrounding you, never knowing if you or your family will be next. The lines between nightmare and reality blur. The horrors described when women were raped in public, civilians were slaughtered in the streets, all were so disturbing that I had to pause and breathe. Why do people commit such evil in the name of war? There is no dignity in it, only the cruelty of power-hungry men.

Reading this while I was sick made it hit even harder. It reminded me how privileged I am to have a roof over my head, clean water, warm meals, and the ability to visit a clinic whenever I feel unwell. They’re struggling to find even a Panadol.

Amid all the horror, the love story between Salama and Kenan offered a sliver of light. Their connection felt like a form of resistance, a small but powerful reminder that even in the darkest times, love still blooms. Their relationship wasn’t just romance; it was hope.

Overall, I give this book 4 stars, not because it lacked anything major, but because the pacing in some parts felt slightly uneven. That said, the emotional depth, the storytelling, and the importance of its message make it an incredibly worthwhile read.

Stay in Touch : Your Greatest Assets are the People Who Love and Care for You

 My beloved mentor recently shared with me a meaningful and beautifully written article by Michael Kouly.

Despite being caught up in workloads and long hours, I'm reminded of how grateful I am for the wonderful support around me; even from former colleagues.

I used to think that colleagues were just that: people you work with, and eventually, people you used to know. While that understanding isn't entirely wrong, it's not completely right either.

Some people genuinely care, even years after no longer being on the same team, they still check in, offer support, and remind you that connection doesn’t always fade with time.

We may not talk every day, but when we do, it feels like no time has passed.

Some may struggle with this version of adult friendship, but to me, it’s real, and I deeply appreciate those who’ve stayed in my corner.

Here’s the article! I hope you find it as inspiring as I did. 

And don’t forget to share it with those you care about. 😊

In the relentless pursuit of professional success— titles, portfolios, investments — we often misidentify our true wealth. The best assets aren’t stocks or skills; they’re the people who genuinely love and care for you. And these aren’t limited to family or close friends; they could be anybody—a mentor from a chance meeting, a colleague who checks in during tough times, even a stranger whose kindness sparks lasting connection, and most recently, your academy cohort. Recognizing and nurturing these bonds isn’t sentimental—it’s strategic for enduring fulfillment and resilience. (Read this again)

Material assets depreciate or vanish, but human connections compound value. Lose a high-value client or gadget? Recoverable. Lose someone who enters and enriches your life? The void lingers, eroding well-being. The Harvard Grant Study, spanning 85 years, concludes: Positive relationships drive happiness, health, and longevity more than any material gain.  Director Robert Waldinger says, “Good relationships keep us happier and healthier. Period.” 

This echoes attachment theory by John Bowlby: Humans are wired for emotional bonds; their presence fosters security, their absence profound loss.  The World Health Organization equates social isolation’s mortality risk to smoking 15 cigarettes daily—worse than obesity. 

Treat caring people as irreplaceable assets. Seek them beyond obvious circles—networking events, online communities, daily interactions. Express gratitude, invest time. Communicate openly, resolve conflicts. Remember, mature people. Audit your “portfolio”. Who truly cares? Invite more “anybodies” in to help you become and grow as “somebody”

Bottom line: People who love you are your best assets—cherish, protect, love and cultivate them for a richer life. (Read this twice, reflect and msg someone you wish to keep in your life)

Don’t you think?

Michael 

GCA

Mimi’s Reception: A Night of Elegance, Celebration, and Beautiful Memories

Exactly ten days before Mimi’s grand reception, we found ourselves at Saloma, a beautiful restaurant that was to become the stage for one of the most unforgettable nights. It was Labor Day, and it was the beginning of an adventure. I brought my little Iryss along, and watching her run around joyfully, playing with Mimi’s cousins’ daughters, made the whole experience even more special. At that moment, I realized this was not just any wedding; it was a massive event, one filled with VVIPs and countless guests, and I was about to be in the thick of it all as the Liaison Officer/Usherer.

In the days leading up to the reception, my role quickly grew. I was entrusted with managing the guest list, rearranging it, and adapting it with every last-minute change. Imagine handling hundreds of names, tables shifting, guests confirming or cancelling at the eleventh hour. I was lucky to have Kak Shasha leading the whole operation because frankly, I didn’t even know who half of the guests were. Without her guidance, I would have been lost.

The reception day itself came swiftly, less than 24 hours after the nikah ceremony. As soon as I could, my eyes were glued to my laptop, combing through the guest list again. I was making sure there were no duplicates, every name was accounted for, and each guest was placed in the correct section, because Saloma is not just any venue. It’s a large restaurant that shuts down for private events, and on this night, it was divided into several sections: one for VVIPs, another for close family, then family in general, and finally for friends.

With over 500 guests attending, organizing this felt like orchestrating a small army. We needed the guest list at our fingertips, and the “Ctrl+F” trick on the PDF list came in handy, but even then, the challenges were endless. Some names were still duplicated, some guests were uncertain about their attendance, and others changed their number of attendees last minute. That day, I learned so much about event management, but what I didn’t expect was to learn about managing a crowd that size.

When I got married myself, the situation was completely different. The pandemic meant only a handful of people were allowed, and as the bride, I had others taking care of all the logistics. But that night, on 11 May 2025, I was part of the frontline team. Alongside the girls, I was ushering guests, handing out door gifts, greeting friends, and managing the flow of people. One of my key responsibilities was to make sure 30 to 50 guests, already seated comfortably inside, would leave their seats at the right time to witness the magical arrival of Mimi and Jijui. It was not an easy task honestly, but a rewarding one because the venue had two beautifully set dais. 

One, outside, with the iconic KLCC skyline as a backdrop, was nothing short of magical; the other, inside the hall, was intimate and elegant. Guests were moved between these spaces throughout the night.

The VVIP guests were fascinating, people with many interesting stories and personalities. It was a chance for me to appreciate human nature on a deeper level. I saw warmth, pride, humility, and excitement all mingled in one space. That night also had its share of challenges. It rained, yes, the dreaded rain! The outdoor ceremony had to be delayed, as the plan was for everyone to experience the magical outdoor dais and a special dance performance. We had live telecasts so the outdoor guests could watch the indoor event and vice versa. Unfortunately, due to the rain, some of the screens weren’t set up properly. 

When Dato’ Kathy and Ramli Sarip took the stage, only the guests inside could enjoy their performance, while those outside missed out. But hey, these things happen, and they didn’t take away the magic.

The theme was a beautiful blend of Italian elegance and Moroccan flair. Mimi chose to wear a stunning Moroccan dress in baby blue, and it suited her perfectly. We even had an Italian cake ceremony, which was as elegant. The dress code called for us all to dress fabulously, and I swear, it felt like we were 17 again, a nostalgic throwback to Majlis Selingkar Kasih at Dewan Sri Endon, Putrajaya, an event many SSPians will fondly remember. I decided to wear a light purple abaya to match with Iryss, though in the end, I left Iryss at home to focus on my responsibilities, a wise decision since it gave me some precious solo time too.

The food was plentiful and delicious; a wide variety of stalls offering so many choices that I wished I could eat more. Sadly, as the crowd thinned out towards the end, most stalls started to close, and I missed out on some treats. But overall, the atmosphere was lively, joyful, and full of laughter. We all had fun; it was a night that made us feel young again, full of energy and hope. Everything was well-orchestrated, and the love and happiness in the air were undeniable.

Mimi, Jijui, honestly, being part of your big day was something really special for me. I hope the night was everything you imagined and more. You two deserve all the happiness in the world. May your marriage be filled with so much love, laughter, and those little everyday moments that make life so beautiful.

I wish you both endless patience and kindness towards each other, and that you always find comfort and strength in one another, no matter what life throws your way. Keep growing together, not just as husband and wife, but as best friends who lift each other up.

Thank you for letting me be a small part of this amazing journey. From the bottom of my heart, I hope your love keeps getting stronger, your days full of joy, and your home filled with peace and happiness.

Here’s to Mimi and Jijui, may your story be one for the ages, and your hearts forever connected.

Book Review: I Hope This Finds You Well by Natalie Su

 Finished this book in just two days; my fastest ever since becoming a mom of two. Between the chaos of diapers, dinners, and bedtime stories, this story had me hooked. I read it during stolen moments, and I just couldn’t put it down.

What I loved most is how it speaks softly but deeply about anxiety at work; the quiet kind that hides behind smiles and polite emails. It reminded me how easy it is to assume someone’s okay just because they look like they have it all together. The truth is, everyone’s struggling with something. And sometimes, the kindest thing we can do is just show up sincerely, with no agenda.

The book also nudged me to think about how past wounds, especially the ones from our younger years, don’t disappear. High school hurt, unspoken fears, they follow us quietly unless we face them. It reminded me: don’t be shy to ask for help. We all need it, and we all deserve to heal.

And Jolene and Cliff? Their chemistry gave me butterflies! The story had just enough twists to keep it interesting, but still felt light and comforting. And maybe what made me love it even more, it’s by a Canadian author. All the familiar places and little cultural quirks brought me back to my 2015–2019 memories. I found myself daydreaming… what if I had said yes to those two job offers I turned down back then? 😮‍💨🫣

If I had to rate it, I’d give it a solid 4.5/5. It’s not just the story; it’s the tone, the pacing, and the emotional honesty that made it stand out. The writing isn’t flashy, but it’s quietly powerful. The only reason it’s not a full five is because I wish we got a little more closure on one of the subplots, but maybe that’s life, too: not everything gets tied up neatly.

The book is available here: Kinokuniya

Book Review: Intermezzo by Sally Rooney

There are books so compelling that you can’t put them down, the real page-turners. And then, there are books so beautifully written that you don’t want to finish them, because you’re not ready to let them go.

Intermezzo is the latter.

I first picked it up earlier this year, but I couldn’t even make it past the second page. The narrative structure confused me; was it a dialogue? A monologue? It’s written in third person, but it felt abstract, hard to grasp at first.

Later, I brought it along as a hospital read. With fewer distractions, I finally sank into the emotional undercurrents of the story; the thoughts and feelings of the two brothers felt unfiltered, raw, and deeply human.

Peter’s inner world is restrained, his thoughts brief and dismissive, as though he’s always holding back. He’s the eldest, the responsible one, and you can feel the weight he carries. He seems to suppress his own feelings for the sake of the family, and I understood that.

Ivan, on the other hand, is all depth and complexity, overthinking, overanalyzing, and struggling to make sense of his emotions. I’m glad he found Margaret. She’s probably my favourite female character, someone who, despite her own troubles, manages to gently peel back each layer of Ivan’s emotional mess. She’s always present, always attentive.

Then there’s Sylvia and Naomi.

At first, I liked Sylvia; she felt like a safety net for Peter. But as the story unfolded, I struggled to understand her. Her actions felt selfish. Although things were eventually resolved between her and Peter, I wish the author had explored more of her past to explain her behaviour.

Naomi brought a refreshing shift. Even though she complicated Peter and Sylvia’s relationship, her presence made things feel lighter, less emotionally burdensome.

Overall, Intermezzo is a poignant reminder that grief affects people in different ways. 

And while friends can offer comfort, there’s something irreplaceable about family. 

As messy and complicated as family can be, they’re the ones who’ve lived through the same chapters of our lives, and that shared history means something.

I'd rate Intermezzo a solid 4.5 out of 5.

It took me a while to find my rhythm with the writing style, but once I did, the emotional depth and character exploration were incredibly rewarding. 

It's not an easy read, definitely, but it's a worthwhile one.

The book is also available here :)