Iris cradled a mug of lukewarm coffee in her hands, the bitter warmth grounding her as she leafed through her lecture notes. The morning sun slanted through the cracked blinds, casting long lines across her cluttered desk. Her eyes traced the words about plant genetics, but fatigue blurred the letters, making the pages seem to sway like leaves in a restless wind.
Her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and saw her best friend calling. The familiar ringtone brought an involuntary smile. She answered, rubbing the bridge of her nose.
"Hey," she said, voice rough.
"Morning, Iris." The familiar tone was softer than usual, hoarse.
"You okay?" Iris frowned. "I'm fine. What happened? Your voice sounds…"
"Rough morning," the friend said, chuckling faintly. "Anyway, I thought of you. There's a book… might be worth your time. Queen Rose Rules the Apocalypse. Heard of it?"
Iris blinked, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Queen… Rose?"
"Yeah. Weird name, I know. It's immersive, a bit dark, but it's good. Thought it might give you something different to think about besides labs and lectures."
Iris hesitated. She hadn't read a novel in years. Between two jobs, school, and the constant hum of obligations, she rarely allowed herself the luxury of leisure. And yet… there was a softness in her friend's voice, a gentle insistence that she let herself breathe for a moment.
"Maybe later," she murmured. "I've got a lot today."
"You'll thank me," the friend said, voice hoarse but warm. "Promise. I'll check in tomorrow. Don't forget."
The call ended, leaving the phone heavier in her hand than usual. She set it down and let her gaze drift around the apartment: the cluttered desk, the half-drained coffee mug, the potted seedlings leaning toward the sunlight. For a moment, she imagined herself elsewhere somewhere that wasn't cramped and grey, a world outside the endless cycles of work and study.
Later that evening, after the second job and a quick dinner, she returned to her small armchair by the window. Her laptop lay open, the novel already downloaded after she had taken a quiet minute earlier to search for it. She didn't read the synopsis or reviews. She simply clicked the first chapter and let the words appear on the screen.
The story unfolded vividly. Cities teetered on the edge of chaos. Characters moved with purpose, cunning, and charm as the world fell apart around them. A minor character, strangely familiar, caught her attention: a girl named Iris Hale. The resemblance was uncanny. This Iris, timid and bullied despite a loving family, reminded her of… herself.
Not the wealth or comfort, but the pressure to be perfect, the quiet desperation to be seen. The extra's flinches at raised voices, her careful steps through hallways, the subtle courage no one noticed it struck a chord deep within Iris. A ripple of empathy spread through her chest, warming her tired body more than the coffee ever could.
She paused, hands resting on the laptop's edge, and let the thought linger. Even in a world not her own, struggle existed in layers unseen. Even minor acts of bravery had weight. Even small lives mattered.
The city outside grew quiet as dusk settled, yet Iris stayed engrossed, reading with a rare, absorbing focus. Page after page, the extra's small battles mirrored her own invisible ones at home, at school, in the moments nobody noticed she existed.
By the time she set the laptop aside, darkness had wrapped the city in muted shadows. Her muscles ached, her mind buzzed with a strange mixture of empathy and anticipation. Somewhere between the chaos of the novel and the quiet of her apartment, she felt a tether form a thread connecting her own overlooked life to a world that, until now, had existed only in words.
For the first time in a long while, Iris allowed herself a small, genuine smile. A story had found her, and in finding her, it had sparked the faintest whisper of hope.