Unpretty Me

Now Brewing #02: Marina, The Mermaid Star

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It was 10 p.m. when Isla kicked off her sneakers, flopped onto her bed, and buried her face in a pillow with a long, exhausted groan. "I swear," she muttered to no one in particular, "if Luke Bautista calls me Irma one more time, I'm putting decaf in his espresso."

She rolled over, yanked her phone off the nightstand, and opened her favorite escape: her SirenAngel account.

By day, Isla was a frazzled barista with a name her boss could never remember. But by night? Oh, she was SirenAngel—the mysterious, enchanting songbird whose voice made thousands swoon. Her followers were obsessed. Her comments section was filled with heart emojis, virtual roses, and people begging for more covers of love songs. She even had die-hard fans writing fanfiction about her—the kind of admiration she never got in real life.

And the best part? No one knew who she really was. Isla didn't have to show her face. All she had to do was set her phone camera on her stuffed mermaid, Marina, and let her voice do the rest.

She grabbed Marina off her dresser and gave the plushie a little shake. "Ready for your big moment, superstar?" she asked, as if the toy could answer. Marina's soft, teal fabric shimmered under the warm glow of the bedside lamp, her stitched-on smile as cheerful as ever.

"Of course you're ready," Isla said with a grin. "You were born for the spotlight."

She propped the mermaid on her bed, angled her phone just right, and hit "Record." Marina's little plush face filled the screen, while Isla sat just off-camera, heart thumping with a mix of nerves and excitement. She always got a little jittery before recording—something about knowing that hundreds, sometimes thousands of people would soon be listening to her voice. But once she started singing, all that anxiety melted away.

She took a deep breath and launched into her newest cover: an acoustic rendition of "Tadhana". Her voice floated effortlessly through the room, filling the small space with raw emotion. It was moments like this when Isla felt truly herself—when the weight of her insecurities lifted, and she could exist purely as her music.

As she sang, comments began flooding in:

@ChocoLuvs: OMG this is BEAUTIFUL 😭💖

@DonutHugs: Marina, you lucky mermaid! You get to hear this voice LIVE!

@LukeTheFluke: Angelic. Can't stop listening.

The last comment made Isla pause.

LukeTheFluke. Her most loyal follower. The username always made her chuckle—it was so silly and self-deprecating. But this particular fan had been following her from the very beginning, commenting on almost every song she posted. He wasn't over-the-top or creepy, just... sweet.

She knew she shouldn't enjoy their exchanges as much as she did, but LukeTheFluke had this way of making her feel seen, even through the screen. Their conversations were playful, easy—something she didn't often experience in real life, especially with men. Definitely not with men like her boss, Luke Bautista, who couldn't even get her name right.

She finished her song, letting the last note linger in the air before ending the recording. The room fell silent except for the soft hum of her fan. Isla sighed in contentment and reached for her phone to read more comments.

@CaffeineKing: WHEN IS THE NEXT ALBUM, QUEEN?!?

@LukeTheFluke: I could listen to you sing forever.

Isla smiled to herself. She knew it was silly to feel a little flutter in her chest over a random username, but there was something comforting about LukeTheFluke's words. It felt personal, like he wasn't just a fan, but someone who really listened.

A notification popped up—another DM from LukeTheFluke.

LukeTheFluke: "I swear, your voice should be illegal. It's too good. How do you not have a record deal yet?"

Isla snorted. If only he knew. But of course, the idea of her double life being exposed was both thrilling and terrifying. It was easier to exist as SirenAngel—a voice without a face, without judgment. No one cared what she looked like, or that her hair was a curly disaster that could double as a mop.

She typed back: "Haha, thanks! Marina's the real star, though. I just sing in her shadow."

LukeTheFluke: "Give Marina my best, but I'm here for the voice. Seriously, you're amazing. Ever think about doing a live performance?"

Isla blinked. A live performance? That was a hard NOPE. She couldn't even sing karaoke without feeling like her lungs were about to collapse. The idea of singing in front of actual people made her want to curl into a ball and roll under her bed.

SirenAngel: "Lol. Yeah, no. Marina's not ready for that kind of fame. She's a diva."

LukeTheFluke: "Fair. But if you ever change your mind, I'll be front row. Just saying."

Isla stared at the screen, her heart doing that annoying fluttery thing again. Why did this guy have to be so... nice? She bit her lip, resisting the urge to overthink it. It was just a friendly compliment. Nothing more. Right?

Still, she couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to meet him in person—this funny, charming stranger who seemed to genuinely enjoy her voice. Would he still think she was amazing if he saw her in real life? Or would he take one look at her messy curls and "nose bridge under construction" and politely back away?

Probably the latter, she thought bitterly, tossing her phone onto the bed. Reality was cruel like that. Men only fell for SirenAngel, not awkward barista who spilled cappuccinos on their bosses.

She shook off the thought and decided to record one more song before bed—something soothing, to ease her restless mind.

As her voice filled the room again, Isla lost herself in the music. For a little while, she wasn't Isla, the barista who was perpetually misnamed. She wasn't a girl battling insecurities every time she looked in the mirror.

She was SirenAngel, untouchable and free. And for tonight, that was enough.

Meanwhile, across the city, Luke Bautista sat in his apartment, earbuds in, listening to SirenAngel's latest cover for what felt like the twentieth time. Her voice was addictive—soft, soulful, and somehow familiar in a way he couldn't quite place.

He leaned back on his couch, a small smile playing on his lips. There was something about her that intrigued him—something beyond the music.

He scrolled through her account, noticing how every post featured the same little plush mermaid. Marina, apparently. It was quirky and charming, much like the singer herself.

Luke chuckled to himself. "I swear, if I ever meet this girl, I'm buying her the fanciest coffee in the world."

For now, though, all he had were DMs and melodies. And as he hit "Replay" on SirenAngel's latest cover, Luke couldn't help but wonder...

Who was the woman behind the voice that haunted his dreams?

And why did she feel so strangely close—like someone he already knew?

As Isla drifted off to sleep, her phone buzzed one last time on the nightstand.

LukeTheFluke: "Sweet dreams, SirenAngel. Your voice is the last thing I needed today."

A small, sleepy smile tugged at Isla's lips as she curled up under her blanket.

If only she knew just how close she and Luke already were—closer than either of them could possibly imagine.

And with a little help from a plush mermaid named Marina... everything was about to get a whole lot more complicated.

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