A Fictional Love Story

Lia : Between Pages and Reality

The musty scent of old paper and polished wood surrounded me as I stepped into the library. It was my sanctuary—a place where the outside world faded into whispers, where I could lose myself in stories without judgment or interruption. I worked part-time here, shelving books and helping patrons, but mostly, I indulged in my own passion: reading.

As a graduating college student, I juggled assignments, group projects, and my shifts at the library. Yet, in the quiet corners of this place, I found a refuge from the pressures of impending adulthood. I spent more time buried in books than I did socializing, much to the chagrin of my family and friends. They didn't understand why I preferred fictional worlds over reality. They didn't know how the characters in those stories filled the void of expectations that loomed over me.

"Lia! You're working again?" My older brother, Jake, leaned against the circulation desk, arms crossed. "You do realize you're supposed to be preparing for graduation, right? Not escaping into your novels?"

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the heat rising in my cheeks. "I can do both, you know. And besides, I'm almost done with my thesis."

"Almost done isn't done," he quipped, his tone teasing. "Mom's been asking when you'll finally get your act together."

"Just because you're Mr. Perfect doesn't mean I have to be." I shot back, but the jab felt weak even as it left my lips. Jake was the golden child—the one who had everything figured out. Meanwhile, I was the daydreamer, the one who lost herself in fictional worlds.

"Don't take it so hard. It's just family. They want the best for you," he replied, though I could tell he was secretly enjoying the banter.

"Yeah, well, I want the best for myself too," I mumbled, trying to drown out the voice in my head that reminded me I was often overlooked, a shadow against my brother's shine.

With a sigh, I turned back to my favorite section—the young adult fiction aisle. There, nestled among countless titles, was my latest obsession: The Story of Ten. It was a tale woven with intrigue and heartbreak, centering on Ten, a dark and brooding character whose complex emotions drew me in like a moth to a flame.

Ten was everything I yearned for in a character—mysterious yet vulnerable, flawed yet compelling. The story followed him through a dystopian world, where he fought against a corrupt regime while grappling with his own internal demons. He was a warrior on the outside but a poet at heart, filled with unexpressed emotions. I could almost see him standing before me, the way the author described his tousled dark hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to hold a galaxy of secrets.

Lost in thought, I didn't notice the time slipping away until a voice broke through my reverie.

"Hey, Lia! Have you read that new book by Ashlyn Carter?" A girl from my class, Jenna, approached with a smile that seemed both friendly and critical. "You should really get out more. It's about time you explored something other than your books."

"Thanks for the recommendation," I replied, forcing a smile. "But I think I'll pass. I'm really into Ten right now."

"Seriously?" Jenna's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "You and your book boyfriends! You know they're not real, right? You should focus on finding a real guy. Maybe then you wouldn't be so 'delulu.'"

"Delulu." The term hung in the air like a cloud, suffocating and familiar. They used it as a joke, a way to poke fun at my love for fictional worlds. But it stung. I knew it was all in good fun, yet their jabs felt like knives sometimes.

"I like real life too," I replied, my voice quieter than I intended. "It's just... sometimes it's easier to get lost in stories."

Jenna shrugged, unfazed. "Whatever. Just don't be surprised when you're alone at graduation with only Ten to keep you company."

As she walked away, I felt the familiar weight of isolation settle on my shoulders. I loved my family and friends, but they didn't get me. They didn't see how stories helped me cope with my feelings of inadequacy. They didn't know about the sting of being the 'not-so-favorite' child, always eclipsed by Jake's achievements.

With a deep breath, I turned back to the shelves, my fingers grazing the spines of my beloved novels. In the pages of these books, I found comfort, understanding, and a sense of belonging that eluded me in my own life. I knew I could escape here, if only for a little while longer.

Tonight, after my shift, I planned to lose myself in The Story of Ten once more, allowing the world around me to fade. I craved the thrill of adventure, the passion of love, and the hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a place for me among the characters I adored.

Little did I know, that escape was about to blur the lines between fiction and reality in a way I never anticipated.