Trapped As The Girl They All Desire

The bathroom stall lock rattled as another fist pounded against it. "Come out, Park!" Jason's voice echoed off the cracked tiles. "We just want to talk." Ethan Park pressed his back against the cold metal wall, knees pulled to his chest, phone clutched in trembling hands. His lunch—a soggy sandwich he'd barely touched—floated in the toilet beside him, courtesy of Jason's friend who'd shoved his head toward the bowl before Ethan managed to lock himself in. *Just want to talk.* Right. The bruises on his ribs from yesterday's "talk" still throbbed. "Five more minutes," Ethan whispered to himself, checking the time. "Five more minutes until they get bored." They always got bored eventually. Then he'd slip out, head down, invisible again until tomorrow's performance of *Let's Make Ethan's Life Hell.* The pounding stopped. Voices faded. Footsteps retreated. Ethan waited another three minutes before emerging, splashing cold water on his face to hide the fact that he'd been crying. Again. The boy in the mirror looked exactly like he felt—forgettable. Mousy brown hair, thin frame, eyes that apologized for existing. "Pathetic," he muttered. The final bell rang. Freedom. Sort of. --- Home was supposed to be a refuge. That's what the guidance counselor had said when Ethan finally worked up the courage to mention the bullying. *"At least you have a safe space at home."* The guidance counselor had never met Marissa Park. Ethan's stepmother stood in the kitchen, designer heels clicking against imported tile, her expression the same one she'd perfected over the past six years—icy disappointment. "You're late." She didn't look up from her phone. "Sorry. I—" "Dinner's at six. Don't embarrass me in front of the Chens. They're important clients of your father's." *My father.* Not *our* father. Never *our* anything. Ethan was the reminder of his dad's first marriage, the dead wife Marissa could never compete with, the unwanted package deal she'd agreed to for the sake of becoming Mrs. Richard Park. "I'll be ready," Ethan said quietly. "Wear something decent. You always look like a homeless person." He retreated upstairs before she could find more ways to remind him he didn't belong. His room—the smallest in their five-bedroom house—was the only space that felt like his. Posters of fantasy worlds covered the walls. Books were stacked everywhere: on shelves, the nightstand, the floor. His escape routes. Ethan collapsed onto his bed, pulling out the book he'd been hiding in his backpack. The cover was worn, purchased from a thrift store last week with the little money he'd saved from his non-existent allowance. *"Destined Hearts: A Reverse Harem Romance"* He'd grabbed it on impulse. Normally, he read fantasy adventures—dragons, magic, heroes who won against impossible odds. But something about this one called to him. Maybe it was the promise on the back cover: *"A girl so captivating, three powerful men would go to war for her heart."* What would that feel like? To be wanted? Chosen? Fought for? Ethan cracked open the book, losing himself in the story of Serina—a beautiful, beloved heroine adored by three very different men. Adrian, the cold duke who melted only for her. Leo, the charming knight who made her laugh. Damian, the fierce warrior who'd die protecting her. It was ridiculous. Completely unrealistic. He couldn't put it down. Hours passed. Dinner came and went—Ethan had forgotten completely, which meant another lecture from Marissa, another disappointed sigh from his father who'd barely looked at him anyway. He didn't care. In this story, he wasn't Ethan Park, professional punching bag. He was somewhere else. Someone else. His eyes grew heavy around midnight, the book resting on his chest. *"'I would burn the world for you,' Adrian whispered, his gray eyes intense with devotion."* Ethan's last conscious thought was a bitter wish: *I want to be her. Just for one day. I want to know what it feels like to be loved like that.* He fell asleep clutching the book. And when he woke up, everything changed. --