AT THE SAME TIME
ISABELLA
Her words hit, and then something else hit harder A memory. Sharp, brutal, and unwanted. The twist, more like that twist. My breath caught, not because of what Wanessa had just said, but because my brain finally stopped screaming long enough to remember what I had written. In the original novel, Wanessa Roisane wasn't just the female lead. She was the reveal. The quiet, devastating reveal is tucked into the latter half of the story. The one that beta readers either loved or absolutely lost their minds over. She was a reincarnator. Not the first soul to wake up wrong in the world, the second.
She noticed inconsistencies, she watched reactions linger a second too long, she clocked fear where confidence was supposed to be, and she slowly became important and found ways to survive the obsessed CEO. It had been recognition, which meant two things. She knew that I was not the original Isabella, and now she tried to act as a friend so she could make the story return to the previous timeline.
"Come tomorrow to East bridge garden cafe'. I want talk to you."Wanessa said and left.
I started as she left the cafe, and at this point, I knew what I had to do. I needed to talk to her, or she would come for me again. The brunch place the next day was aggressively cute. That was my first mistake. White tables, hanging plants, chalkboard menu written in someone's optimistic handwriting. The kind of place that served drinks with names like 'Sunrise kiss and gentle awakening', which felt vaguely threatening given my life circumstances. I stood across the street staring at it, as it might bite me.
"Okay." I muttered. "She said brunch. Normal people have brunch. This is survivable."
I crossed, immediately regretted it. Wanessa Roisane was already there. Of course she was. She sat at a corner table bathed in natural light like the universe had personally adjusted the sun for her. Casual outfit, soft sweater, hair loosely tied back, no effort and maximum effect. She looked up the second I stepped inside.
"You came." She said, pleased.
"I was threatened." I replied flatly, dropping into the chair across from her. "Emotionally."
"I said no disappearing."She laughed. Actually laughed.
"Yes a very ominous phrasing."I sighed.
A waiter appeared instantly, as if summoned by narrative necessity.
"Two for brunch?" He asked, eyes lingering a second too long on Wanessa.
"Yes." She said easily. "And coffee, black."
He turned to me.
"Water." I said. "I don't trust happiness before noon."
Wanessa's eyes sparkled.
"I like you already."She said.
"That makes one of us."I said.
The waiter left and I folded my hands on the table, posture stiff, brain buzzing.
"So." I said. "You read the finished version."
"Yes."She said.
Wanessa rested her chin on her hand, studying me with far too much interest for someone who allegedly already knew the ending.
"You don't act like the Isabella I knew." She said. "She was careful. Polished, she believed control equaled safety."
"I believe caffeine equals safety." I replied. "We are clearly different women."
Her smile softened.
"That's why I wanted to meet you." she said. "Not to interrogate you."
"Liar."I said.
"I want to understand you." She corrected. "The story shifted the moment you slipped yesterday."
"Which slip?"I asked.
She didn't hesitate.
"The way you reacted when Michael joked about timing. You said-"She began and paused, watching my face closely. "-not think about flirtation, CEOs, or narrative derailment."
I slowly sank lower in my chair.
"I hate my mouth."I said.
Wanessa laughed again, bright and unguarded.
"That was the moment I knew."She grinned.
"Knew what?"I asked.
"That you weren't a reader like me."" Her eyes gleamed. "Readers remember scenes. You remember structure."
The waiter returned with coffee. I accepted my water like a condemned prisoner.
"So let me get this straight." I said. "In your version, the novel was complete."
"Yes."She said.
"You survived Xavier."I guessed.
"Yes."She said.
"You escaped."I added.
"Yes."She said.
I stared at her for a long second too long.
"And the ending?" I asked carefully. "What was it like?"
Wanessa's fingers paused around her cup. Just a fraction.
"It was clean." she said. "Tied up, almost gentle like the author was tired."
My mouth opened before my brain could tackle it.
"I never liked gentle endings."I said.
Silence, real, heavy silence. Wanessa didn't react immediately, she didn't smile, she didn't accuse, she simply looked at me the way someone looks at a sentence that suddenly doesn't belong in the paragraph.
"Never liked?" She repeated softly.
I froze, that was it. I tried to recover, but it was too late.
"In my drafts." I rushed on, waving a hand weakly. "I mean hypothetically gentle endings feel dishonest. Stories like this don't end cleanly. They-"
I stopped because Wanessa's eyes had sharpened.
"The beta readers complained about that." She said quietly. "About how the ending felt unfinished. Like someone meant to come back and rewrite it."
My pulse slammed in my ears.
"You know." She continued, tone calm, conversational. "The author used a pen name."
"Moon." Wanessa said.
The word landed between us like a dropped glass. I felt my spine go rigid. She watched my face change, didn't miss a single micro expression.
"That's odd." She went on gently. "Because the only people who ever complained about gentle endings were Moon… and me."
I exhaled slowly, too slowly.
"I talk too much." I muttered.
Wanessa smiled not triumphant, not cruel.
"So." She said, leaning back in her chair, completely at ease now. "You are not just someone who fell into the story."
My throat felt dry.
"You are the one who built it." She finished. "And then got trapped inside as someone who was never meant to exist."
I didn't deny it. Wanessa took a sip of her coffee, eyes never leaving mine.
"Well." She said lightly, like this wasn't reality shattering information. "That explains why you look at the world like you are waiting for it to misbehave."
"You are taking this very well."I said.
"I already survived your story once."She shrugged. Her gaze softened. "I was curious what you'd be like without the pen, Moon."