The rain tapped softly on the window, as if trying to comfort the girl who hadn’t moved from her desk in hours.
Gerah stared blankly at her notebook.
Her fingers hovered above the page, pen uncapped. But the words refused to come.
Her room was a mess—books half-opened, old drafts crumpled in the trash, a cold mug of instant coffee sitting untouched. It had been like this for days.
42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfMoECUmYDM
She used to believe writing could save her. It was the only place where she felt like someone—where she could control the world, the characters, the endings. Unlike real life.
In reality, she was the girl no one noticed.
Bullied in school, ignored at home.
She was invisible.
42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsUw16ne3vP
But in her stories, she could be anything.
Today, she was starting something new.
A fantasy romance about a kind servant girl named Dahlia, a noble prince named Xavier, and the cruel girl who stood in their way—Mara, the daughter of a powerful general.
42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8GulthHHlU
Gerah wasn’t even part of the story. She didn’t belong in that world. Not even as a background character.
She wrote the first lines slowly.
“In the grand kingdom of Elvaris, love bloomed between the lowest and the royal…”
42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcTVTqWr8vN
42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlxnvcboN2H
42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2O311uZ34U
She smiled faintly.
42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡryxafyqukL
It felt… warm. Real.
42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJ1wBVSBQEf
Just as she was about to write more, her vision blurred. Her eyelids grew heavy. She slumped forward, head resting on her notebook.
And everything went dark.
But before everything disappeared, she heard a strange voice whisper in the back of her mind:
"You
wrote this world, Gerah... now live it."
ns216.73.216.238da2
