Into Her Favourite's Story

Chapter 2

But each visit feels emptier than the last. The house is the same, their faces are the same, but the warmth I once dreamed of never comes.

When I look at my mother, I no longer see the gentle woman who once called me her daughter. I see someone who looks past me, as if I’m a shadow she forgot how to love. My father rarely speaks to me unless it’s about money for my brother. The word “family” has begun to sound like a memory, but not in reality.

And yet, in spite of everything, I still love them. I still carry that same fragile hope deep inside me — the hope that one day my mother will look at me, truly see me, and say, “I’m proud of you, Sarya.”

Even after all these years, I still wait for those words.

Days passed by slowly, each one blending into the next. My life had fallen into a quiet routine — work, home, sleep, and repeat. Everything felt the same, day after day.

There was no excitement, no color, only the soft “hum…” of silence that filled my small rented room each evening.

At work, the office was always full of life. People chatted about their weekends, shared lunch together, and laughed loudly at silly jokes. Their voices filled the air with warmth, but I was always on the edge of it all — present, yet invisible.

I smiled when someone spoke to me, answered politely, and then went back to my quiet corner. It wasn’t that I disliked anyone; I simply didn’t know how to belong.

One afternoon, during lunch break, I was sitting alone at my desk, quietly eating while everyone else sat together in groups. That’s when I overheard my colleagues talking excitedly.

“Have you read Throne of Flower? It’s so popular right now!” one of them said.

“Oh yes! I felt so happy while reading it,” another replied with bright eyes.

Their voices were so full of energy and emotion that I couldn’t help but listen. They spoke about the characters as if they were real people — their joys, their struggles, and a story that had touched their hearts. Something inside me stirred.

And a small thought crossed my mind — maybe if I read it too, I could join their conversations and make some friends by sharing my thoughts about it.

That evening, when I returned to my small rented room, their conversation still echoed in my mind.

I sat down on my bed, opened my phone, and searched for “Throne of Flower.” It didn’t take long to find it online. I noticed that it wasn’t completely free — only a few chapters were available to read, and the rest had to be unlocked by purchasing them with coins.

I read all the free chapters eagerly, completely absorbed in the story. But soon, a message popped up asking me to unlock the next chapter. I hesitated for a moment, because I truly wanted to keep reading.

My heart sank for a moment when I remembered my situation. My salary barely covered my rent, food, and travel expenses. Still, I had a little money set aside — the money I usually spent on tea, snacks, or tiny comforts to brighten dull days.

I stared at the screen, thinking for a long while. Then, almost without realizing it, I smiled softly and decided to use that money to buy all chapters.

It wasn’t just about the story anymore. It felt like I was giving something to the part of me.

But, that story… it completely pulled me in.

But it wasn’t the heroine who touched my heart. It was the second male lead who truly captivated me. He was quiet, gentle, and endlessly patient — the kind of person who carried his pain silently so others wouldn’t feel burdened by it.

I had grown attached to the character, especially the second male lead. There was something about his quiet suffering and gentle heart that felt familiar — almost like I could see a part of myself in him.

Even though he wasn’t as popular as the main characters, I found myself drawn to his story. I joined his small fan group online, even though there were far fewer people compared to the ones who adored the male and female leads.

Still, the few of us who supported him shared our thoughts and emotions. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I belonged somewhere, even if it was just a small corner of the internet.