I was in my room, lying on my bed, bored out of my mind and scrolling through my phone again when I saw it.
“How to make money off ghostwriting.”
I hesitated. What if I didn’t write to their liking? What if I tried and couldn’t get the words right? What if I got rejected?
My thoughts swung wildly between pessimism and optimism within minutes. Eventually, I gave up and continued scrolling…
but it kept appearing on my feed, almost like a sign, urging me to try my luck and see what the universe had in store for me.
So I picked up my phone and started typing.
I wrote from my soul. Every word came easily. I didn’t even have to think twice. Yet, at the back of my mind, fear lingered. I
desperately didn’t want to turn out like my parents. I wanted to be different. I needed to be different.
After finishing each chapter, I reread it carefully, correcting every mistake, making sure it felt perfect.
By midday the next day, I was done. I compiled everything into a PDF, ready to submit it to the client. I paused again, doubttightening around my chest. But with a deep breath and blind faith, I submitted it.
The review would take a week.
All I could do was wait.
By Saturday morning, the first thing I did was check my email. My heart pounded against my ribs, threatening to burst out of
my chest.
There it was.
I was accepted.
Five hundred dollars per book. All I had to do was review the contract and sign.
I was overwhelmed with happiness. But I knew I couldn’t tell anyone — not even the boy I loved so dearly.
Sometimes, I wondered if he had ever truly loved me.