writer's unfinished story

chapter- 1

The phone rang, sharp and shrill, cutting through the silence. Erika snatched it up, her voice edged with frustration.

"Hello, Liya. What’s going on?"

"Hey, Erika. I just spoke with the manager," Liya’s tone was hesitant. "He said... well, he thinks your story is boring."

Erika’s grip tightened on the phone. "Boring? What does he want from me?"

"He’s not into horror stories. Says they're dull and predictable. He wants... romance," Liya said, her words falling like a heavy weight.

Erika let out a dry laugh. "Romance? I can’t write that! Love stories aren't my thing. I've never even been in a relationship. How am I supposed to write about something I know nothing about?"

"I know it’s not your style, Erika, but you don’t have a choice. There are other writers who’d jump at this chance to work for TS-company. And honestly, we don’t have time. He’s giving you a week to come up with a perfect love story. Otherwise..."

Erika sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Alright, alright. I’ll try my best. I need this job... I need the money."

"Good. Just don’t overthink it. Start with the basics—characters, a story, a little bit of drama," Liya suggested, her voice fading as the call ended.

Erika tossed the phone onto the cluttered desk. She paced back and forth, her thoughts spiraling. How on earth am I supposed to write about love?

She dropped into her chair, staring at the blank screen on her computer, her mind a tangled mess. “I need this job so badly. Without it, I can’t even pay rent this month.”

The buzzing thoughts turned bitter as she mumbled, “My name is Erika, and I’m... stuck. My father’s an alcoholic, and my mom’s been gone for years. All I’ve got is this dream of becoming a real writer, but life keeps throwing punches. And now, I’m supposed to write a love story?”

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud, insistent knock on the door.

“Great, just what I need.” Erika groaned as she dragged herself from the chair. She opened the door to find her landlady, Mrs. Alice, standing there, arms crossed, her face pinched with irritation.

"Erika, it’s been two months, and I haven’t seen a single cent of rent from you," Mrs. Alice snapped, her eyes narrowing.

Erika swallowed hard, forcing a smile. "I’m so sorry, Mrs. Alice. I just need a couple more weeks, I promise. I’m working on something big."

Mrs. Alice huffed, her expression softening—just slightly. "You have two weeks, Erika. If you can’t pay by then, you’ll have to leave."

Erika nodded, a sinking feeling in her chest as she watched Mrs. Alice walk away. She shut the door and leaned against it, her resolve hardening. “I have to finish this story, even if it kills me.”

She returned to her desk, determination mixing with desperation. "Okay, Erika, let's think. What do people like in love stories? Drama, passion... conflict." She took a deep breath, trying to let the ideas flow. "Alright, one female lead, two male leads. Maybe a love triangle?"

The words began to spill onto the screen, a rough outline of a story forming. But before she could get far, exhaustion overtook her, and she slumped forward, her head landing on the keyboard with a thud.

---

When Erika opened her eyes, she wasn’t at her desk anymore. She blinked, disoriented, her vision adjusting to a strange, dimly lit room.

"Where am I?" she murmured, struggling to stand.

She glanced around, realizing with a start that the room looked... different. It wasn't her cramped apartment. It was more like a scene from an romance novel, complete with flickering candles and antique furniture. Her heart pounded, confusion flooding her mind.

Was this a dream? Or had her desperate wish to understand love stories somehow brought her into the world of one?

Erika straightened, brushing off the dust from her clothes. "This... this can’t be real," she whispered, but as she took a step forward, the reality of it sank in.

She had no idea how she got here, but one thing was certain—she was no longer just a writer. She was in the story itself, and she’d have to learn the rules of romance firsthand if she ever wanted to find her way back home.