I KISSED MY HATER IN THE STORY

Kayla Turi POV The eviction notice felt heavier than it should. I stared at the red letters printed on cheap paper: FINAL WARNING. It demanded I pay the rent immediately. My hands no longer trembled. I was used to these delays. But if this had happened three years ago, I would have been crying. Now I just shrugged and folded it neatly, slipping it under my laptop like a bookmark from hell. "Kayla Turi, at twenty-six, you're about to become homeless." I raised my instant ramen cup to my reflection in the dark window. "Cheers to rock bottom." New York City glittered below my cheap fourth-floor apartment. From here, the lights looked like falling stars. Beautiful lies. Down there, those same streets had chewed me up and spit me out three times this year alone. Two failed jobs. One dead-end relationship. Zero safety net. I slurped my noodles and opened my phone. Rent due in four days. Bank account: $43.67. Ding. My phone buzzed with a notification. MOM: Kayla, your father wants to know if you're coming for Thanksgiving. He misses you. I laughed bitterly. Misses me? Right. He misses someone he can lecture about "wasted potential" until she dries up. I typed: Busy with work. Maybe Christmas. Then I deleted it. Can't afford the ticket. Sorry. I deleted that too. It felt wrong to tell them about my struggles here. So I typed again: "Tell Dad I'm fine. I just got promoted to Senior Assistant." Send. Yep. I lied again. That had become my little habit to keep my dear mother from worrying, even though her daughter was failing at everything she'd warned against. My phone buzzed again. This time I ignored it. I grabbed the book that had been sitting on my nightstand for two weeks, a worn paperback I'd found at a street vendor's sale. The cover was ridiculous but intriguing, showing a woman in a ball gown crying by a fountain, a muscular man in the background looking constipated with emotion. Sowing the Wind. The title alone should have been a red flag. But it cost fifty cents, and I needed an escape that didn't involve my landlord's voice or my mother's passive-aggressive messages. I started reading. "Helena Turi spent her entire life in the magnificent Turi family mansion. But she was determined to forge her own destiny. She happened to find Oscar Padip, the man she believed could fulfill her fantasy of a life full of affection, embraces, and attention. Amazingly, Oscar was now her boyfriend. So that Helena could stay with Oscar, she made her escape a reality. She didn't care if Julian Joja chased after her and declared his love for her. What she knew was that being with the Turi family or the Joja family was a strong anchor tied around her neck." I don't know how long I'd been reading, but everything made my blood boil. I wanted to throw it into the street. "Are you seriously kidding with your life?!" Unable to hold back, I threw the book across my apartment. It hit the wall with a satisfying thud, its pages fluttering like wounded birds. My neighbor responded with two loud thumps telling me to shut up. But I didn't care. "She had EVERYTHING!" I shouted at the peeling ceiling. "Money! Family! Access to choose her beautiful destiny! And she chose HIM?!" All the privileges I admitted I completely lacked now. Helena Turi, she was a rich girl from the Turi family. She was her grandfather's favorite granddaughter, born with silk swaddling clothes and a silver spoon. She could have spent her life with the world, or continued the business and enjoyed life wallowing in wealth. However, she sacrificed everything for Oscar Padip: a man who... Oh my God! I couldn't remember his characteristics other than his terrible nature. From an honorable family's daughter to a wretch who had to bow under her cruel mother-in-law's armpit. Because of her deviant choice, she ended up dying while pregnant. I assumed she was killed by the people who made her sacrifice everything. I reached for my glass, my hand shaking with anger. Because I had spent the last five years working hard to survive. Working at a coffee shop while finishing college. Sleeping four hours a night. Eating ramen three times a day. All for a chance to live the life Helena so carelessly threw away. "If I had her money," I whispered, pressing my forehead against the cold window, "I wouldn't be stupid enough to fall in love." Huh. "If I could jump straight into the story, I wouldn't die that easily!" The city lights suddenly dimmed. My vision blurred. Love was a luxury I couldn't afford. Especially when survival was a full-time job. I went down to the street just to get the book, picking it up with two fingers as if it were contaminated. The cover mocked me. Helena's soft, beautiful, naive face stared with painted tears. As I returned to my apartment, I stared at Helena's face on the cover. "You don't deserve to cry," I told her. "You chose your own destiny." I flipped to the last chapter again, just to torture myself. Helena's fingers clutched her swollen belly while Deca's hand gripped her neck. "You were always useless," her mother-in-law hissed. "Even your child is a curse." The last thing Helena saw was Oscar's empty eyes, staring into the void with regret. He heard everything and could do nothing. My chest felt tight. "Coward," I muttered. Not at Helena. But at Oscar and every character in this cursed book who watched her suffer and did nothing. Moreover, at Helena herself. For being too weak to save herself. I threw the book on the floor and collapsed on my bed. Tomorrow, I would count the rent costs. Tonight, I just wanted to sleep and forget that stories like Helena's existed. My eyes closed. CRACK. Suddenly lightning split the sky until I felt it in my teeth. The lights flickered repeatedly before finally going out. "Great." I sighed, immediately fumbling for my phone's flashlight to turn it on. That's when I noticed something. The book was glowing. It wasn't reflecting light but glowing with a soft golden touch that seeped from between its pages like liquid sunlight. I sat up slowly. "What the..." Its pages began turning on their own. Very fast. An unreal wind lifted my hair, tugged at my clothes, and the air felt like static and burnt sugar. "Okay, this isn't funny!" I scrambled backward, but my apartment was too small. The light grew stronger and blinding. I covered my eyes with my arm. And then I heard it. An enthusiastic female voice from some corner. "Hello, Kayla Turi." I froze. "Who is this?" "I'm Ety! You've been selected for a beautiful journey to find Helena's happiness! I will guide you and I hope you're willing to be guided!" "Selected for WHAT?!" "You stated your desire to fix Helena Turi's fate. And I will bring you straight into her story. Remember to never die in this story. If you do, you will die in your original world too. Story difficulty level: medium to hard." Damn! What kind of rule is that?! "I didn't WANT anything! I just said..." The wind turned into a storm. My feet left the ground. I clawed at empty air, screaming, while the golden light swallowed me whole. The last thing I saw was my empty apartment. And the last thing I thought was: I'm going to die in my pajamas. And then... Cold liquid splashed my face. I opened my eyes to darkness and a musty smell. My cheek pressed against rough concrete. My head throbbed. My mouth felt like I'd just licked a battery. "What the..." I stood up groaning. My hand touched a layer of soft fabric over my body. Was my pajamas transformed into expensive silk? I couldn't believe it so I grabbed it, pulling it closer. This wasn't pajamas! This was a dress! A very expensive dress if you think about it. Where am I? I fumbled for my phone for light, before finally realizing I was no longer in my apartment. Instead, I was in a room with one flickering lamp, and shelves full of dusty boxes and... SPLASH. Ice water hit my face again like a slap from God. I jerked, choked, and coughed. "WHAT IS THIS..." "You dirty girl! Sleeping until noon like a princess!" The light suddenly stayed on consistently. So I could see clearly. Two women stood before me. One old, one younger. Both wore the same disgusted expressions. The older one was heavy-set, with a mole on her chin like a witch from fairy tales. She held an empty bucket. While the younger one looked scarier with her heavy makeup. She had sharp eyes, crossed arms, and a sneer. "Who..." I coughed, wiping water from my eyes. "Who are you really?!" The slap came so fast, I was shocked. Pain spread across my cheek. My head jerked to the side. I felt a tremendous pounding. "DON'T YOU DARE use that language in this house!" the old woman screamed. I touched my face, frowning and unaccepting, so I punched the young woman's jaw. She screamed, staggering backward. I grabbed the old woman's wrist before she could hit me again, twisting it until she squealed. "My hand hurts..." "Touch me again," I growled, "and I'll break it!" I threatened. They stared at me with fear. "Mom, she's like a monster!" the young woman said. That's when I noticed my hand. It wasn't my hand. Too pale like porcelain with beautiful long nails. Not like my previous hand, bitten to the quick as usual. I looked down. The dress on my body was made of cream silk, embroidered with gold thread soaked with water. "What..." I turned, looking for a mirror. There was one, a cracked mirror leaning against the wall. I staggered toward it. The face staring back wasn't mine. Wider eyes. Sharper cheekbones. Longer hair, tangled and wet, but clearly not Kayla Turi's hair. It was Helena's. From the book cover. "No." I touched the mirror. The girl inside mimicked me. "No, no, no, no..." "Helena."