Vivien’s Pov
I felt a throbbing pain in my head, a constant pulsing that made every cell in my brain scream. I tried to open my eyes, but my eyelids felt heavy. Instead of the thick scent of smoke, sll of antiseptic and dicine hit my nostrils.
I tried to move my fingers, but they felt heavy. In the distance, the soft snick of a door opening cut through the haze.
I finally forced my eyes open, only to see a stark white ceiling above . I looked around weakly, my vision blurring as I realized I was in a hospital room. A nurse stood at the door, her tray nearly slipping from her hands as her eyes went wide.
"Doctor! The patient has finally waken up!" she cried, her footsteps echoing as she went running down the hall.
"Ugh..." I groaned, the sound of my own voice startling . It was higher and younger-not the voice of the woman who had just died.
What’s going on? Didn’t I just die? I looked down at my body with trembling hands.
Sothing was wrong. There were no burn marks, no stab wounds, and the skin wasn’t the soft milk like Viella’s. This wasn’t her body at all.
My eyes widened as I looked at a mole on my wrist I’d known my whole life. Wait, this looks like-
Before I could finish the thought, the door swung open with a bang. The doctor and nurse rushed in, but they were pushed aside by two people who looked like they had been living in a nightmare for weeks.
My heart stopped. Standing there, breathless and tearful, were... my mom and dad?
"Vivien!" My mom let out a sob that sounded like it ca from the bottom of her soul. She rushed to the bedside, her hands hovering over as if she was afraid I’d disappear if she touched . "Oh, thank God, you’re back. You’re finally back!"
I stared at my dad, who was leaning against the doorfra, his face pale but looked relief breaking through his exhaustion. My mind was spinning with questions.
The life I had lived in that other world... was it all just a dream?
"You have been in a coma for the last five months," my mother said through her sobs, her arms wrapped so tightly around I could barely breathe.
The weight of her words hit . Five months. Finally, the realization washed over : I was back. I was ho. I was Vivien again. Which also ant... I WAS BACK TO BEING BROKE. No more mansions, no more designer dresses, no more unlimited Mafia funds. I wanted to scream into my pillow, but the tears falling down my face were a ssy mix of frustration and pure relief. Broke or not, these were my parents.
I hugged Mom back, and Dad joined in, his steady presence finally grounding in reality.
"What exactly happened?" I managed to ask, my voice sounded bit dry.
"We were trying to contact you, but your phone was dead," Dad explained, his voice thick with emotion. "Then we got a call from your neighbor. They found you in your room; you had fallen and your head was bleeding. Thankfully they got you to the hospital in ti, but because of the impact, you just wouldn’t wake up."
I listened, but my mind was already racing ahead. The fall. The head injury. That was the mont I slipped into the book. If I was back here, then where was the actual book?
"When will I be discharged?" I asked, looking urgently at the doctor.
"We need to run a few more tests, and if everything looks stable, we’ll let you know," he replied with a professional smile. "Until then, please just rest."
I nodded impatiently, watching them leave the room. I had to find my notebook. I had to see if the ending I lived was the one written on the paper.
I turned to my mom, trying to sound as normal as possible. "Mom, I’m fine now. Truly. You don’t have to worry anymore. Besides, you guys should return ho-you have so much work to do, and I’ve bothered you for way too long."
"Shh, it’s fine, darling," she said, smoothing my hair with a tired smile. "Once you’re officially okay, we’ll all go back together."
I gave a weak nod and leaned back against the thin hospital pillows. My head was still throbbing.
I could feel my body fading again, the exhaustion of waking up from a five-month slumber pulling back toward the dark. But just as my eyes started to flutter, Mom’s voice piqued my interest.
"Oh darling, there was this one kind man who ca and paid for all the hospital bills," she said, her voice full of wonder. "He said he was your friend. He even brought you flowers."
I craned my neck to look at the vase on the windowsill. My heart skipped. They were tulips. A beautiful vibrant bunch of tulips. They were my absolute favorite... and the exact sa flowers Viella was deathly allergic to. My skin prickled. Sothing felt odd. Was it a coincidence? Before I could press her for a description, the darkness won.
My eyelids snapped shut, and I fell into a heavy sleep.
When I finally woke up again, the room was filled with activity. My parents were packing up my belongings into bags.
"Darling, the doctor said everything is fine now. We can go back ho!" Mom chirped.
I gave a weak nod, my head still feeling a bit weird. Mom helped change out of the scratchy hospital gown and into my real clothes - a pair of baggy jeans and an oversized hoodie. God, I missed cotton.
As we walked out, I paused at the door, my eyes lingering on the tulips one last ti. They looked so real. So deliberate. Then, I closed the door on the white room forever.
The car ride back was a blur of familiar streets. I couldn’t stop thinking about that friend.
"Mom," I asked, leaning my head against the cool glass of the window. "Do you know who the guy was? What was his na?"
"He did give his na, but you know this old age... I can’t rember," she sighed, sounding frustrated with herself. "He just told he was your friend... and oh, yes! He said he was your high school friend."
"My high school friend?" I muttered, my brow furrowing.
I went through my ntal Rolodex of classmates. I had friends, sure, but none of the guys from high school were the "pay-a-hospital- bill" kind of friends. Most of them probably didn’t even know I was in a coma. I hadn’t kept in contact with any of them.
A friend from the past? Or a ghost from the book? As we pulled into our neighborhood, my stomach twisted. If he was from my high school, he’d be a regular person. But if he knew about the tulips...
"Mom, did he have... dark hair? Or maybe a very serious look?" I asked, my heart beginning to race.
"He was very handso, that’s for sure," she laughed, oblivious to my panic. "Very well-dressed. A bit intimidating, but very polite to your father and ."
Intimidating. Well-dressed. Paid a massive bill without blinking. My breath hitched. Was it possible that the ending of the book wasn’t an ending at all, but a beginning....?
The mont we entered the house, I didn’t even wait for my parents to take off their shoes. I bolted toward my room, my legs still feeling like jelly but fueled by a frantic need for answers.
The house felt so small-just the cramped front room, the tiny kitchen and my bedroom.
"Be careful! You just ca from the hospital!" my mom’s voice rang out behind , filled with worry.
I didn’t answer. I pushed open my door and stood there for a heartbeat, staring. I was really back. The posters on the wall, the piles of sketches-it felt like stepping into a ti capsule.
It felt weird, almost wrong, like I was a puzzle piece that had been reshaped and no longer fit into its original slot.
I scrambled over to my desk, my hands shaking as I tossed aside old notebooks "Where is it... where is it..."
Finally, my fingers brushed against the familiar texture. I pulled it out. The sa cover, the sa texture-everything was exactly as it had been.
I sat on the edge of my bed, my heart thumping.
"There’s no way it was just a dream," I muttered to the empty room, my voice a whisper. "I felt the fire. I felt the knife."
I hurriedly flipped through the pages. The early Chapters were sa, the character profiles for Elias and Dante. But as I kept turning, the ink seed to change.
I reached the section where I had been living the story, and the words on the page matched my mories perfectly- every dialogue, every move and action.
Then, I reached the very last pages. My breath hitched. My eyes widened.
"There’s... no way..."
The book slipped from my numb fingers and hit the floorboards with a dull thud.
______________
Just as she thought... it wasn’t a dream. It was all
real. She had indeed transmigrated inside the book, living through every Chapter.. Every page she turned reflected the Chapters she had caused- her chaos and her survival everything until the story belonged to her.
The fact that Dante had killed himself afterward... she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the mory of his hand and that final desperate embrace.
"Those were just words in a book," she whispered to the quiet room, her voice trembling. "Just ink and paper. I’m no longer a character. I’m Vivien. I’m just Vivien."
She let out a long breath, trying to steady the frantic beating of her heart. "Yeah. I’m out now. Back to a normal life. Back to reality."
But the normal world felt too quiet. A chilling thought began to take root in her mind, turning her blood cold.
If she had crossed back into this world, she wasn’t necessarily the only one.
Since I ca back... does that an Elias is back, too?
Elias, the creator who had lost control of his own masterpiece. A man like that wouldn’t just vanish, he would be obsessed with finding the ending he was denied. If he was here, in her world, she was no longer a character he could write- she was a target he could find.
And Dante...
Her heart ached with a dull throb. Was he gone? Was he nothing more than a mory left in a fictional book?
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TO BE CONTINUED
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