Three Years of Love, I Walked Away

When I was transported into this novel, I knew nothing about the plot except the heroine's name. I'd always figured I was the female lead, since I thought we shared the exact same name. The second I laid eyes on the male lead, Gio Larc, I fell head over heels. I pursued him relentlessly until he finally agreed to marry me. But then came our third year of marriage. A girl with a name that sounded exactly like mine popped up in Gio's life. Only then did I remember that the heroine's name wasn't Michaela Prey, but Mikayla Pray. I was never the heroine. I was merely a nameless cannon-fodder character who happened to share a similar name with her. ***** "Michaela, it's time to face reality! You're not the heroine, Michaela. You're just Michaela, a minor supporting character with barely any role in the story! "The plot is about to return to its original course. The male lead is destined to fall in love with the heroine, and you will be abandoned!" Ever since Mikayla, the heroine who shared almost the same name as me, appeared three months ago, the voice of a so-called System had been echoing relentlessly in my mind. It kept barking at me to give up my spot as Gio's wife. I ignored it like I always did, putting the final touches on the candlelit dinner I'd planned for our third wedding anniversary. Even if I'm not the heroine of this story, the feelings between Gio and me over all these years were never fake. When I first entered this novel's world, the very first person I met was Gio. I fell in love with him at first sight and relentlessly pursued him. In the beginning, his expression would turn cold whenever he saw me, and his friends all treated me like a joke, mocking and ridiculing me. It wasn't until I risked my own life to save him from a car engulfed in flames that the rejection in his eyes finally disappeared. Soon after, he agreed to date me, and eventually we got married. Even after our marriage, Gio remained a man of few words and rarely showed affection openly, but he always cared for me through his actions. Whenever I suffered from menstrual cramps, he would personally make chamomile tea for me every month. When I was hospitalized for surgery and fell into a coma, he complained that I was interfering with his work when I finally woke up, yet he had stayed by my bedside for two whole days and nights without rest. Once, I casually mentioned that I had heard the pastries in Alberta were delicious. When he returned from a business trip there, he brought me a box of cheesecakes. He claimed he had simply picked them up on the way, but that bakery required people to start lining up before dawn every day just to get a chance to buy them. Little moments like that clued me in: Gio was all gruff on the outside, soft on the inside. I'd finally figured out his awkward, clumsy way of loving me. There was no way he would ever have a change of heart, I was certain of it. Once I had the whole dinner set up, I glanced up at the European-style wall clock. 8:23 PM. He was always home by this time, no exceptions. I dialed Gio's number. "Gio, when are you getting home tonight?" He paused for a beat on the other end of the line, then spoke, "Michaela, I'm sorry. Something came up last minute. I won't make it home for dinner, so don't wait up for me." His deep, magnetic voice hit my chest like a sledgehammer. My fingers froze mid-movement. "Do you remember what today is...?" I didn't even get the last word out before he hung up abruptly. All I was left with was the sharp, droning beep-beep-beep of the deadline ringing in my ear. My chest clenched tight for no reason I could name. That familiar system voice cut into my head again. "Want to see what your husband is doing right now?" I didn't want to see a single thing, but the system didn't give me a choice. It projected a live feed of Gio right in front of my eyes. The feed showed Gio sitting beside an emergency room hospital bed, massaging a girl's swollen ankle, his movements so gentle they were almost reverent, his face soft with clear worry. That girl was Mikayla, the one with a similar but different spelling than my name, the actual female lead of this novel. She was the younger sister of Gio's best friend, and the book's real heroine. In that split second, a thousand tiny needle pricks stung my heart, sending a dull, constant ache spreading through my chest. The system's cold, flat voice rang out in my head again. "See? The male lead has already started falling for the female lead! If you still refuse to let go, the plot will leave you dead in the gutter, your parents will die horribly in a car crash that sends them plummeting off a building, and even your brother will be mangled beyond recognition." I clenched my fists so tight my knuckles whitened, my jaw creaking as I bit down hard to stop myself from shaking. 'Could I really handle consequences that horrific?' I said nothing, my hands still balled into fists. I still refused to cave to the system. Gio didn't come home until the next morning. As soon as he stepped through the door, he slipped off his coat and handed it to me, just like he always did. I took in the exhaustion written all over his face, then my gaze dropped to his cuff, where a very obvious coffee stain marked the fabric. I frowned without thinking. "What happened here?" Gio followed my line of sight, his tone completely flat and unconcerned. "Mikayla spilled it when she brought me coffee yesterday. She twisted her ankle in the process too, so I drove her to the hospital. She's so clumsy, honestly. No wonder her brother asked me to look out for her." Five years since we'd met, three years of marriage. This was the first time Gio had ever spoken this many words to me in one go, and every single word was about another woman. When the system threatened me, I'd brushed it off. When he bailed on our anniversary dinner the night before, I'd still chosen to trust him. But that faint, almost imperceptible flicker of fondness in his eyes as he talked about Mikayla right now? It shattered every last bit of resolve I had left. I dropped my gaze and said nothing, squeezing my own fingers so hard they went pale. After a long, heavy silence, I spoke in a low, quiet voice. "Gio, I don't like Mikayla. Can you reassign her somewhere else?"