The Villainess must win

~Sarah's pov

All stories end happily. I shove another chip in my mouth.

Of course they do. It's fun, right?

The good girl ends up with the Male Lead, who the hell is he anyway? Hot, powerful— prince charming. Of course.

Huh. Pathetic.

We all play along and don’t even feel bad about it. Meanwhile the villainess? She always dies. Why?

NOBODY CARES TO HEAR HER SIDE OF THE STORY.

So, y'all made her the villain to see your sweetheart win.

I hit "Enter" and lean back, knuckles cracking. My comment pops under the latest chapter I’ve been reading for weeks.

Someone replied: "Chill, it's just a story"

Just a story. Right.

When did I start caring this much about fictional people? Stories pretend there’s a law: you get what you deserve.

Except my best friend is with my crush, and I’m alone defending a villainess on the internet at 11 p.m. on a Friday.

Who’s really pathetic here?

This morning, I actually had hope. Stupid, stupid hope.

~ ~ ~

"Sarah! Sarah!"

I pretended not to hear. Whoever it was, they were being too loud, and the hallway was already packed with people staring. If I could just make it to the library,  five steps away—I would be safe.

But the voice was getting closer.

I stopped and gripped my bag strap tighter before turning around.

It was Evelyn.

She was running toward me, her blonde hair bouncing like she was in some shampoo commercial. Behind her, walking at a normal pace like a sane person, was John Matthews.

My crush for the past year. The guy I never dared to actually talk to.

"What's wrong with you?" Evelyn panted when she reached me. "I've been calling you forever!"

"Sorry." I forced a smile. "You look... extra radiant today."

"I know, right?" She practically glowed. "Hey, are you free tonight?"

"Free? Not really, I was going to—"

"Please?" She grabbed my arm, pouting like a kid.

"Ugh, okay. Why?"

"John and I are going to this party tonight!"

John and I. Those two words shouldn't go together.

"John?" My voice came out steady somehow. "Which John?"

"John Matthews!" She bounced on her toes. "We've been dating for a week now. Can you believe it?"

Last week.

While I was daydreaming about him, he was asking out my best friend.

"That's... great," I managed.

John finally reached us, hands in his pockets, that easy smile on his face. "Hey."

He glanced at Evelyn, then at me. "Sarah, right?"

He knew my name. Somehow that made it worse.

"Yes."

"Eve talks about you all the time." He turned back to her, his whole expression softening. "Babe, we should check out that bookstore before it closes."

Babe.

"Oh! Right!" Evelyn squeezed my arm. "I told John's friend you were cute. You should totally come tonight!"

"Eve, stop."

"Aww, that just makes you cuter! Party's at nine if you change your mind!"

They walked away hand in hand. I stood there in the hallway like an idiot, watching them leave.

At least he knew my name. That was something, right?

No. It was nothing.

It was worse than nothing.

~ ~ ~

Back home, I collapsed at my desk and opened my laptop. I needed to escape. Forget John. Forget Evelyn's happiness. Not that I was jealous. Obviously.

I pulled up the online novel I’d been binging for days—the one with the beautiful villainess who had everything I didn’t: money, beauty, a prince who was supposed to love her. Except she ruined it all, obsessed, jealous, cruel.

Readers hated her. Well, I did.

Silver Noir.

But tonight, reading about Silver's desperate love for a man who never loved her back... it hit different. Maybe because I knew exactly what unrequited love felt like.

The Prince ignored her at the ball. Cheated on her with other women.

Can't blame her, at least she fought for what she wanted.

My eyes were getting heavy. The screen blurred.

One more chapter. Just one more. Chapter 348: SEALED FATE.

Silver on her knees, begging Prince Arthur to save her. He looked down at her with disgust. The heroine: Rosalie, watching with pity. "For all your crimes, I might have shown mercy," he said coldly. "But you tried to poison Rosalie."

He drew his sword.

Silver had schemed, manipulated, destroyed lives—but it was one vial of poison meant for Rosalie that sealed her fate. Not heartbreak. Not desperation. Just attempted murder.

The blade came down.

My eyes burned. I blinked hard, but the words on screen kept doubling, tripling. I should stop reading. I told myself that every night.

The laptop's glow blurred. My neck ached from hunching forward. Just need to rest my eyes for a second...

My cheek found the cool surface of the desk.

~ ~ ~

I woke to silence.

My room was never quiet. There was always a sound—traffic, neighbours arguing. But now... nothing. And the bed underneath me felt wrong. Too soft. Too big?

My eyes snapped open, this wasn't my room.

I sat up quickly, my heart racing. The sheets around me were made of real silk. Above me, a crystal chandelier hung like it belonged in a palace.

What the hell?

I scrambled out of the bed — massive, I couldn't afford to look at —and my legs tangled in a nightgown.

A silk nightgown.

I don't even own a silk anything. I shop at Target.

The room was enormous. Dark wood furniture with gold details. This is just too wrong.

This looked like... No. My stomach dropped.

This looked exactly like the room I'd been reading about for weeks.

Silver Noir's bedroom.

That's impossible. That's completely Impossible.

But I knew where the mirror would be before I turned. Knew everything in the room, familiar with every face in the portraits.

My legs moved on their own, carrying me toward the mirror.

Please no. Please, please, please no. I looked at the mirror.

Green eyes stared back at me—not my brown ones. Chestnut curls framed high cheekbones. Full lips. A face so beautiful it looked unreal. Silver Noir's face.

"No." The word came out as a whisper. The girl in the mirror mouthed it with me. "No, no, NO!"

I slapped myself. Hard. Pain exploded across my cheek—her cheek—our cheek—

This was real. I was in the novel.

I am Silver Noir. The villainess everyone hated. The character whose death I just read about. The woman who dies in three months at the Spring Ball, executed by the prince she loves.

My legs gave out. I hit the carpet—thick, soft, and stared at hands that weren't mine. Everything about Silver was perfect. Except for her ending.

"How?" I whispered to the empty room. "How is this possible?"

People don't just wake up in novels. That's not how reality works. There had to be an explanation. A reason. Something

That's when I saw it.

A piece of paper on the table that wasn't there a second ago.

My hands shook as I stood up and walked over to it. The paper looked ordinary enough. White. Folded once.

I picked it up.

~ ~ ~

Dear Reader,

Since you were so obsessed with defending the villain, here's a little gift—you get to play her role. I hope you don't give up too easily.

Your Lovely Author.​