Chapter 11: Breaking the Script

Sweat from Marcus’s face dripped into my eyes.

It stung, and I blinked, vision swimming. Suddenly, tears spilled down my cheeks.

Marcus stopped what he was doing and grabbed tissues.

“Sorry, I…”

Maybe he thought he’d hurt me.

He hovered nearby, hand outstretched, jaw tense like he was bracing for a blow. The moment he apologized, I cried harder.

I clung to his back, sobbing.

“Why am I not the main character?”

“Marcus, I’m getting engaged.”

My words were a mess.

“Why can they do whatever they want, and I’m just here to fill out their character settings?”

“I’m so pitiful.”

Tired, I fell asleep on Marcus’s chest.

Before drifting off, I thought, Marcus is even more pitiful.

At least I’m a rich supporting character. He’s just a broke, handsome extra.

And I keep using him, over and over.

When I woke up, Marcus was gone again.

In the empty room, I stared at the ceiling.

I laughed at myself—

He seemed like a scripted extra, with a fixed plotline.

And we would only meet in bed at certain times.

There were several missed calls on my phone, all from my dad.

I thought something was wrong and picked up: [Dad, what’s wrong?]

[Honey, we still didn’t win the bid.]

This port construction bid was the company’s last shot.

My dad sighed.

There was a pause, then: [How about I send you to study abroad? Don’t come back for a few years.]

The storyline was starting to match what the system told me.

I took a deep breath: [Dad, I want to marry Caleb Foster.]

…

How funny, the main guy and girl’s character growth and romance all need to be propped up by side characters like me.

They need my ruthlessness to highlight their resilience and kindness.

My ignorance and pettiness to make their love look great.

My one-dimensional, tool-like existence to set off their perfect protagonist personas.

I stared at my reflection in the window, wondering if I’d ever be more than a plot device in someone else’s happily ever after.