Chapter 3:
327 Words
Chapter 3:
The first week of rewriting was hell.
Amara rewrote until her fingers cramped and her eyes burned. She survived on coffee, instant noodles, and three hours of sleep. She deleted entire chapters and started over. She called her best friend twice and cried both times.
She sent the new chapters at 11:58 PM on the 14th day.
Ethan replied in 12 minutes: My office. Now.
It was 9 PM on a Tuesday.
She found him still at his desk when she arrived, tie loosened, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He didn’t look like the cold, untouchable editor she met before. He looked tired. Human.
“You fixed it,” he said. No greeting. No small talk.
Amara stood frozen by the door. “Is that good?”
“It’s better than good,” he said quietly, closing her manuscript. “It’s publishable.”
Her knees nearly gave out right there. She gripped the back of the chair to stay standing.
He stood, walked around the desk, and stopped a foot from her. Close enough that she could see the exhaustion in his eyes.
“But I need to know something first,” he said.
“What?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Can you handle the pressure? Because if we sign this, your life stops being yours. Interviews, deadlines, public criticism, late nights. Are you ready for that?”
Amara thought of her mother’s hospital bills. Of her little brother dropping out of school to work. Of three years of rejection emails.
“I’m ready,” she said, lifting her chin. “For anything.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened. For a second, something flickered across his face. Respect, maybe.
“Good,” he said. “Because I don’t do things halfway, Miss Carter. Neither should you.”
He extended his hand across the desk. “Welcome to Black Publishing.”
She took it. And felt her entire world shift on its axis.
- Writer
