Chapter 3: The Main Girl and the Plot Twist

I stared at the barrage for a long time before finally piecing things together. Turns out, the main girl mentioned was the real daughter—Lillian, Derek’s childhood sweetheart.

The realization hit me like black coffee after a sleepless night. So Lillian, the real daughter, was always the one meant for him. The one who fit into this story. I was just a plot twist. Lillian—the real daughter who took my place in the city, the one who seemed to fit into every scene like she belonged there. Apparently, she’d always been in Derek’s story, even before I was written in.

According to the plot, soon after, Derek would take me to his grandfather’s birthday dinner. I, disliking the male lead for being poor and unrefined, would leave him in pursuit of wealth and status. At the dinner, I’d flirt with Lillian’s brother, get into a fight with his rumored girlfriend, and finally die in a car accident...

...

I had nightmares all night. When I woke up, Derek had already gone out to work.

Sunlight streamed in through the yellowed window shade, the only sign of warmth in the otherwise chilly room. I found a note on the fridge—Derek’s handwriting was rough and rushed: “Workin’ late. Breakfast in the oven.”

After breakfast, I carried the dirty laundry out to the backyard and tossed it all into the cracked plastic tub. The air was thick with the smell of earth and detergent, and somewhere in the distance, a John Deere tractor rumbled along the road. In the past, I had a housekeeper for this. Now, with nothing left, I could only rely on myself. I worked up a sweat scrubbing the clothes.

The grass under my feet was dewy and cool. I wrung out a shirt, knuckles aching, wishing for the gentle hum of a washing machine. From the neighbor’s porch, the older ladies’ chatter drifted over:

"City girls really are different—even wear such nice clothes to do laundry."

"Look at those big eyes, so pretty. No wonder little Derek is so smitten."

"Pretty is useless. I heard she’s got a temper and can’t do any work. Not like my girl—she can do everything and isn’t spoiled."

"Tch, you’re just jealous."

One of them waved her iced tea in my direction, grinning as if she’d just spotted a stray cat on her porch. Their laughter floated over like wind chimes, a mix of teasing and envy that I was already learning to recognize as rural affection.

...

I got distracted for a moment and didn’t even notice when Derek came back. He glanced at the clothes in the tub, then at the sweat on my forehead. He frowned deeply and pulled me inside.

His hand was rough but gentle as he tugged me by the wrist. He wouldn’t look me in the eye, but his thumb brushed my wrist, lingering just a second too long. "Leave them there. I’ll wash them later."

He must have just finished working—the cheap, dirty T-shirt on him was soaked with sweat, clinging to his body, outlining his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and the hard lines of his muscles.

He smelled of fresh-cut grass and engine oil, the scent lingering between us. For a second, I just stared—his face flushed from exertion, brow furrowed in concern. Something fluttered in my chest I didn’t want to name.

I swallowed, unable to stop my mind from wandering.

He seemed to realize something and quickly let go of my hand. "I’m a bit dirty. I’ll shower first."

He avoided my eyes, grabbing his towel and heading for the bathroom like he couldn’t get away fast enough.

After he left, another barrage floated by:

[That body—worthy of the male lead! Even stunned the side character.]

[This girl’s luck is too good. If she’s tired of acting, let me have a few episodes!]

[Even the male lead is getting self-conscious. Aubrey, he’s about to fall.]

[The male lead must have remembered when the side character said he was dirty before.]

Suddenly, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Lillian, with several photos showing her happily living at home, doted on by her whole family.

[Are you used to life in the country?]

[Grandpa’s birthday is in a few days. He hopes you’ll come.]

[Don’t forget—I hope you’ll come too.]

[Address.]

Her messages always felt like she was auditioning for a Hallmark special—sweet, but with that subtle undertone that said she belonged here and I didn’t.

Just as I finished reading, the barrage appeared again:

[Tsk, the main girl wants to see the male lead, huh? /thinking]

[I remember at this dinner, the main girl confesses to the male lead—all thanks to the side character disliking him. Otherwise, how could the main girl comfort him and speed up their relationship?]

[If the side character doesn’t want to repeat her mistakes, hurry and take the initiative to flirt with the male lead—fight for him!]

[Exactly! All those props the male lead hid—use them! Hurry up and build your relationship tonight.]

[Real couple is the best ship.]

After a while, Grandpa called. The familiar voice on the other end made my eyes well up instantly. After the Quinn family found out I was a fake, only he still treated me the same as always.

His voice was raspy and warm, a reminder of birthday parties and Sunday dinners that now felt like someone else’s memories. I clung to the phone, not wanting to let go, even after we’d said goodbye.