Mara never meant to abandon the story.
At least, that's what she told herself every time she scrolled past its title on her profile—The Fanfic That Learned to Breathe. The name stared back at her like an accusation. Thousands of reads. Hundreds of comments. And the same question repeated again and again, even after years of silence.
When will you update?
Her laptop hummed softly in the dark room, the only light coming from the screen. Outside, the city slept. Inside, Mara's chest felt heavy with something unfinished.
She clicked the story open.
The last chapter ended in chaos—blood, rain, a confession that came too late. The hero stood on the edge of defeat, the villain's blade hovering inches from his heart, and the love interest screaming his name.
Mara had stopped there.
Not because she didn't know what happened next—but because she cared too much.
Fanfiction was supposed to be fun. A place to play with what ifs. But somewhere along the way, the characters had stopped feeling fictional. They lingered in her thoughts while she showered, ate, tried to sleep. She felt responsible for their pain.
"I'll ruin it," she whispered to the empty room. "I'll disappoint everyone."
The cursor blinked at the end of the chapter.
Waiting.
She reached out, intending to close the tab—then froze.
A new line appeared beneath the last sentence.
"You promised you wouldn't leave us here."
Mara's breath caught.
Her fingers hovered above the keyboard. "I didn't type that."
The screen flickered once, as if acknowledging her words.
"You wrote us to survive," the sentence continued.
"So why did you stop believing we could?"
Mara slammed the laptop shut.
The room fell silent.
But her heart refused to slow.
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