"The ending was so beautiful," Nina whispered, hugging the book tight to her chest like a child clinging to a beloved toy. Her voice was soft, dreamy, coated with the kind of wonder you only hear from people who still believed in magic or love.
I lay beside her, arms tucked behind my head, eyes fixed on the cracked ceiling above us and the ceiling fan groaned faintly with each turn. I should have brought my earbuds, I already knew what was coming.
"Love will always win," she added, her voice melting into a sigh.
There it was.
I groaned under my breath. "Girl, please."
She turned toward me, eyes shining. "What?"
"You said that line every night this week. Hell, you have said it every day since you picked up that book. You are obsessed." I said, annoyed
Nina laughed, soft and unbothered like she always did when she knew I was annoyed
"You wouldn't say that if you read this like i told you" she replied.
I rolled my eyes "I don't need to read that" I muttered. "You basically live inside the audiobook at this point. You recite it in the cafeteria, in the tricycle ride home and even during dinner. I have heard every chapter and honestly? That kind of story? Cringe."
She blinked at me, like she couldn't believe what she just heard "Cringe?!"
"Yeah. Like, seriously cringe. A woman who gets cheated on, abandoned then forgives him because she still loves him?" I shook my head. "That's not romantic, Nina. That's a cautionary tale."
Her jaw dropped dramatically, one hand flying to her chest like I'd just insulted her entire bloodline. "You're so bitter. Maybe get a boyfriend first, then you'll finally understand what love really feels like."
That hit nerve
I sat up, norrowed my eyes "Excuse me? I don't need a guy to 'understand' love. If your idea of love includes betrayal and begging someone to come back, I'm glad I've missed out."
She sat up too, a frown pulling at her face. "You're twisting it, it's not about begging. It's about forgiveness and healing, choosing love even when it's hard."
"No," I said, trying to keep calm. "It's about her losing herself, Nina. Giving up her dignity so the man can have his redemption arc. Why is it always the woman who has to bleed just to prove her love is real?"
The silence stretched between us.
She always did this. Disappeared into fictional love stories that mirrored the same real-life disasters she kept walking into. I had seen her cry over boys who ghosted her, who lied, who cheated and each time, she would tell me, "He just needs time" or "He is not a bad person." And then she would read another story like this one, about a girl who forgives the guy who breaks her and she would find comfort in the idea that pain was part of the process that love just had to hurt first.
But I couldn't pretend anymore. Not when I saw how it was affecting her.
"Why do men always get to be messy and still be loved?" I asked quietly. "They get second chances, sympathy, space to grow but women? We're only strong if we stay. Only admirable if we forgive even when it costs us everything."
"That's not true," she said softly.
"Isn't it?" I replied. "Look at the stories we consume. Look at the stories you love. The guy cheats, lies, disappears but in the end, she takes him back. He learns a lesson and everyone claps and her? She's just... there, smiling, crying but never angry, never selfish. Just waiting."
She didn't respond right away.
I could see the gears turning in her head. She wasn't used to questioning the stories she adored. She believed in them, believed in the power of second chances, of true love defying the odds but I knew what she was really doing, she was trying to rewrite her own heartbreaks through fiction.
"You don't have to sacrifice yourself to prove love exists," I said gently. "You don't have to shrink yourself to be lovable."
The conversation had shifted. It wasn't about the book anymore. I was speaking like I needed her to understand something, something beyond the pages and something personal. For a moment, she looked like she was going to say something but instead, she looked down at the book, she tightened her grip around it as if she was waiting for it to defend her
Then I noticed it.
The cover... it shimmered. Just a flicker so fast I wasn't sure I had really seen it.
"Did you see that?" I asked.
"See what?" Nina replied, looking up at me through her eyebrows, confused
I pointed. "The book. It... glowed. Just now."
She raised her eyebrows as she returns her gaze on the book
Before she can say anything, the book pulsed..just once..like a heartbeat under her hands.
We both froze.
She dropped it instinctively. It hit the floor with a soft thud. The room fell silent.
And then we heard it.
Breathing.
Not ours. Not human. Soft, steady, and somehow... coming from the book.
"Nina," I said, standing slowly. "Back up."
"What the hell is that?" she whispered, inching closer instead.
The book began to lift. The pages fluttered like wings in slow motion and a faint glow began to leak out from between the covers, olden, warm but also wrong.
"Get away from it!" I pulled her back just as a gust of wind burst from the book, even though the windows were shut.
The pages began to rip themselves free, one by one, twisting and circling in the air like they were caught in a tornado.
"Lana, what's happening?!"
"I don't know!" I shouted, shielding my eyes from the flying paper.
Then voices.. neither from us..
"That's love..."
"As long as he's happy..."
Clear as the day, it was a woman voice
And I can't help but be scared
The pages spiraled faster, forming a ring around me. Only me.
The air shifted. Heavier. Charged. I could feel something pulling me.
"Nina!" I screamed, reaching for her hand.
"Lana!" she lunged, her fingers brushing mine but too late.
In a flash
everything collapsed into darkness.