The rain wouldn't stop.
Not a gentle, cinematic drizzle. Not the kind that makes the city look romantic or gives you an excuse to sigh wistfully against a window.
No.
It was cold, relentless, and so loud I could barely hear my own thoughts.
My coat was soaked through. My shoes squelched with every miserable step.
My umbrella had broken two blocks ago.
And as if on cue—
SPLASH.
A passing car barreled through a puddle right next to the curb, dousing me in a fresh wave of cold, dirty water.
I froze.
Not from the temperature, though that was awful.
But from the sheer, cruel absurdity of it all.
Of course. Of course that would happen.
Because why not? Why not today?
Another day of being overworked, underpaid, and invisible.
Another silent bus ride surrounded by strangers who looked just as tired and just as empty.
Another night of coming home to no one.
I didn't even have the energy to be angry anymore.
So I just… stopped walking.
Right there, on the sidewalk.
People brushed past me, umbrellas up, heads down.
No one looked. No one cared.
I tilted my head back and stared up at the sky.
The clouds above were a dark, endless gray. The kind that felt heavy. Suffocating.
And for some reason, I stood there.
Soaking wet. Numb.
And let the rain hit me.
Then… it happened.
Just one tear.
It slid down my cheek quietly, like it didn't want to be noticed.
The kind of tear you don't even realize is there until it's already gone.
I didn't even realize I was crying.
It wasn't pain.
Not really.
It was just… too much.
Too much disappointment.
Too much pretending.
Too much everything.
And then something hit the back of my head.
I blinked.
It didn't hurt—just surprised me.
A soft thunk, like a paperback tossed carelessly.
I spun around, ready to glare at whoever thought this was a funny prank—
But the street behind me was empty.
Just puddles.
Steam rising from grates.
Streetlights flickering against the wet pavement.
And one thing lying on the ground.
A book.
I stared at it for a second, suspicious.
Then bent down to pick it up.
It wasn't wet.
Not even damp.
Even though it was lying on a soaked sidewalk in the middle of a storm.
It felt warm in my hands.
The cover was deep red—almost maroon—and looked like worn leather. The edges were frayed, the spine slightly cracked. It had clearly been handled many times, though never with cruelty.
No author.
No publisher.
No blurbs.
Just one title printed in faded silver foil:
"Love Life: User Manual."
I stared at it.
I honestly almost laughed.
What kind of ridiculous, clickbait title was that?
It sounded like a self-help pamphlet you'd find in the back corner of a gas station.
Or something a teenage girl would buy at a discount bookstore during her post-breakup spiral.
I almost dropped it right there.
Almost walked away.
But I didn't.
I don't know why.
Maybe it was the absurdity of it.
Maybe it was the fact that the book had literally hit me in the head.
Maybe some kind of weird nostalgic feeling.
Or maybe… maybe it was something else.
Something I didn't want to name.
So I took it with me.
Tucked it under my arm and walked the rest of the way home in silence.
———————————————————
My apartment welcomed me the way it always did.
With stillness.
It was small—studio-style, dim, and cold in winter no matter how high I turned the radiator.
I peeled off my soaked clothes, threw on something dry, microwaved a frozen curry, and collapsed onto my bed.
The book was still in my hands.
Why was I still holding it?
I shook my head and placed it on my lap, fingers brushing the faded cover again.
"Love Life: User Manual," I read aloud, sarcasm practically dripping from my voice.
What a joke.
Like love ever came with instructions.
I almost shoved it under my bed and called it a night.
But something stopped me.
Just… curiosity.
Just five minutes, I told myself.
A quick glance to see how awful it was.
So I opened it.
There was no author inside. No dedication.
Just one strange line printed on the inner cover:
"Some hearts are born to be rewritten."
I stared at it longer than I should have.
Then I flipped to the first page.
And started reading.
——————————————————
It wasn't what I expected.
It wasn't a "guide."
It wasn't even realistic.
It was a story.
The story was so cliched, or maybe even worse.
A misunderstood female lead.
Lonely, unloved, secretly noble.
So brave, so pure, so not like other girls.
Everyone in the story misunderstood her — except, of course, the cold, tormented but beautiful and popular male lead.
A prince wrapped in shadow, emotionally unavailable.
Until she came along.
Until she saw his pain.
Until she loved him enough to break the curse of his own heart and change his fate.
And then came the tragic characters.
The ones meant to be feared or pitied.
A tyrant prince. A mad villainess. Some "foolish side characters" who either betrayed the heroine or existed only to suffer and die for her growth.
And then… there was Selene Virell.
I almost missed her.
Barely half a paragraph.
A "noble lady of minor repute" briefly mentioned as the prince's ex-fiancée in a failed arranged marriage.
"Jealous."
"Dull."
"She faded quietly into irrelevance after the engagement was called off."
That was it.
No mention of her feelings.
No insight.
No tragedy.
Just forgotten.
I kept reading anyway.
I don't know why.
Maybe because, in a story full of people worth saving, I wanted to hear more about the ones who weren't.
———————————————————
Hours passed.
The book was a cliché. A mess of tropes. Predictable. Sappy.
And yet… something about it hooked me.
Not because it was good.
But because it felt familiar.
Like someone had written it for the girl I used to be.
The one who believed that love, if you worked hard enough, could fix anything.
That if you were just kind enough, patient enough, lovable enough—
someone would finally choose you.
Stay with you.
But that had never been true.
Not in my life.
Still, I read until the final page.
The very last line burned itself into my memory:
"And so, even in the end, she never regretted choosing to love—no matter the price."
I stared at it for a long time.
That line.
That lie.
Then I closed the book.
And my eyes.
And finally…
slept.