Prolonged
Santos couldn’t believe the day had finally come.
After years of sleepless nights, endless papers, and gallons of coffee, she was finally wearing the cap and gown she had dreamed of. Her maroon sash fluttered gently as the wind picked up, and she clutched her phone tightly in one hand, trying to take the perfect selfie with her friends.
"Group photo tayo! Last na 'to!" her best friend Alyssa called out, waving everyone over.
Mia laughed, her eyes crinkling with joy. “Wait lang, ayusin ko lang hair ko! Wind is not cooperating.”
They were standing just outside the university auditorium, where proud families swarmed to greet the graduates. The air was buzzing with excitement—flashes from phone cameras, laughter, and the occasional shout of someone finding a loved one in the crowd.
In the middle of it all, Mia felt like she was floating. Not just because of happiness, but because she truly couldn’t believe it was over. High school had been a blur, and college even more so. She had struggled—especially coming from a humble background—but she made it.
"Hoy!" came a teasing voice. Her older brother, Marco, appeared from behind a cluster of students, holding a small bouquet of sunflowers. “You thought I’d forget, no? Alam kong favorite mo 'to.”
“Kuya!” Mia’s eyes welled up with tears. She ran to him and threw her arms around him, laughing. “You remembered.”
“Of course. First Santos graduate, diba?” he said proudly, tapping her on the head. “You made us proud, bunso.”
They stood there for a moment, the noise of the crowd fading into the background.
Mia looked around. “Saan si Mama?”
Marco's smile faltered just slightly. “Stuck in traffic. Pero sabi niya to go ahead. She’ll meet us at the restaurant.”
Mia nodded. “Okay lang. I’m just… really happy right now.”
But the moment was short-lived.
A loud screech of tires tore through the air.
Heads turned.
In an instant, chaos replaced celebration. A black van came hurtling toward the crowd at terrifying speed, the driver yelling but unable to stop.
Everything happened too fast.
“MIA!” Marco screamed.
She turned just in time to see the van jump the curb—right where a group of students, including Alyssa, were standing.
Without thinking, Mia ran forward, arms outstretched.
“Alyssa, MOVE!”
She shoved her friend out of the way.
And then—
Impact.
Pain.
Darkness.
---
Silence.
Then, a soft hum. Like the buzzing of fluorescent lights. Or was it something else?
Mia’s eyes fluttered open.
But this wasn’t a hospital.
The ceiling was white, ornate. The kind you’d find in a mansion, not in any Manila hospital. The bed she lay on was far too soft. Too big. The sheets smelled like lavender and something faintly citrusy.
She sat up, blinking. Her arms felt different. Lighter? Slimmer?
She looked down at her hands.
These weren’t her hands.
“Mia…?” she whispered. But her voice—it was higher, smoother, like it belonged to someone else.
Panic rose in her chest. She stumbled out of bed and ran to the full-length mirror on the far wall.
The reflection staring back at her wasn’t hers.
The girl in the mirror had long silver-blonde hair cascading down her back like silk, and pale skin with a dusting of freckles. Her eyes were icy blue, wide with disbelief.
“What… the hell?” Mia breathed, backing away. “Who…?”
Then a loud chime rang from the sleek phone on the bedside table. She picked it up, trembling.
A message flashed on screen:
Drake Vexmor: Don’t be late. Meeting at 9.
Mia’s blood ran cold.
Drake Vexmor.
No.
No. That couldn’t be.
She looked around the room again. The fancy decor, the unfamiliar clothes in the closet, the name engraved on the journal by the desk.
Selene Ashford.
Her legs gave out and she collapsed to the floor.
“I’m inside the book,” she whispered.
The Vows of Thorns and Roses. Her sister’s favorite novel. The one they used to argue about. The one she teased her sister for reading over and over. The one with the tragic ending, where the innocent Selene dies in the last few chapters.
The book where Clarisse Morge—the golden heroine—gets everything.
The book where Drake Vexmor falls in love, not with Selene, but with Clarisse.
Her heart pounded.
“I’m not supposed to be here,” Mia muttered, gripping her chest. “Why Selene? Why not Clarisse? Or anyone else?”
But the answer came quickly—and cruelly.
Because Selene dies.
And this wasn’t just some dream. It wasn’t temporary. This body felt real. The pain in her ribs, the heartbeat pounding against her palms, the icy floor beneath her knees—it was all too real.
Tears streamed down her face as she whispered one final truth:
“If I don’t change the story… I’m going to die.”
