"𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐈 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬?" - 𝐊. 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨
𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨: This story is Slowburn, follows a couple of months after the epilogue and is accurate/realistic.
WARNING: My writing style is very detailed, so if you aren't into d...
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Your bedroom felt heavier than usual.
The warm glow of the afternoon sun spilled in through the curtains, casting long golden beams across the room—but it did nothing to ease the chaos currently unfolding.
You were clutching your sketchbook to your chest like it was a precious artifact, your arms locked tight around it, as your chest rose and fell with short, flustered breaths.
Across the room, Mina stood frozen beside your desk, mouth agape, eyes sparkling with wicked delight as realization hit her like a truck.
Her finger lifted and pointed, trembling with excitement.
"No. Way."
Your lips pursed into a tight line. Your cheeks, already flushed, darkened further.
Mina's grin cracked wide. "NO. WAY!"
"Mina—"
A squeal erupted from her throat as she launched herself across the room at you like a human rocket. "I KNEW IT! LET ME SEE—!"
"SHUSH, MINA! They'll hear you!" you yelped, dodging her grasp just in time as you twisted away from the bed, keeping the sketchbook locked against your chest like a shield.
"Come on, please!" she cried, her arms flailing toward you as you spun to the other side of the room. "Just a peek!"
"Hey! Watch it—!" you half-laughed, half-gasped as she nearly tripped on your carpet.
Mina regained her balance and dove at you again.
You danced out of reach, waving the sketchbook in the air like it was a stolen crown jewel. "I said no!"
"Let. Me. See!"
"No!"
Another swipe. Another dodge.
You were breathless. She was relentless.
It was a standoff of epic proportions, only slightly hindered by your own embarrassment and her sheer force of will.
And just as you backed yourself into the corner by your dresser, still shielding the damn book with your life, you looked toward the camera of your imaginary life and thought:
