AN HOUR LATER
ISABELLA
By the time the shift finally ended, my soul felt like an over-extracted espresso, bitter, shaky, and one wrong move away from collapse. Wanessa Roisane left just before closing. She gave a small wave, a soft smile that lingered a second too long, and a look that said I'll see you again without actually saying it. The bell chimed behind her like punctuation. A period. Michael locked the door and flipped the sign to CLOSED, stretching as if nothing monumental had happened.
"Well." He said lightly. "We survived."
"Debatable."I stared at the counter.
Chairs were stacked, lights dimmed. The cafe returned to its quiet, harmless state just wood and glass and coffee stains. No heroines. No CEO's. No destiny lurking between sugar packets. I grabbed my bag, hesitated, then turned to him.
"Michael."I said.
"That tone usually means trouble."He hummed.
"I need to tell you something." I said. "Something important. Something… reality altering."
"Oh, good. I was hoping tonight would get weirder."His eyes brightened immediately.
"I am serious."I said.
"So am I."He said.
"Come to my place."I exhaled sharply.
"Is this where I ask if I should be scared?"He asked.
"Yes."I said.
"Cool." He said, grabbing his jacket. "Lead the way, oh ominous one."Michael teased.
My apartment was small, cramped, and aggressively me. Books stacked in uneven towers. Papers everywhere drafts, outlines, scenes with angry red edits scribbled across them. The kind of place that screamed unresolved narrative issues. Michael stepped inside and stopped.
"Wow."He said.
"Don't." I warned.
He picked up a manuscript, read the title. 'How to Escape My Obsessed CEO'. He looked at me, then at the pile, then back at me.
"I am listening."He said.
I shoved my bag down and paced like a defendant in a courtroom.
"Okay." I said. "I'am just going to say it. I died."
He didn't laugh this time.
"You died."He whispered.
"Yes."I said.
"Past tense."He said.
"Yes."I said.
"Like dead dead."He added.
"Truck kun." I said. "Very efficient."
A beat of silence. Then he burst out laughing so hard he had to sit down.
"No way."He said.
"I knew you would laugh."I added.
"I am not laughing because I do not believe you." He said between breaths. "I am laughing because this explains everything."
"Explain."I exhaled sharply.
"You disappear for hours, you panic when rich men blink at you. You just casually call people 'female leads'." He wiped his eyes. "This is the least insane explanation, honestly."
"You believe me?"I stopped pacing.
"Absolutely."He nodded eagerly.
"That was easier than expected."I blinked.
"Continue." He said, eyes sparkling. "I am invested now."
I swallowed and kept going.
"I woke up in this world and realized it's a novel." I said slowly. "My novel, I wrote it. Every plot beat. Every trauma. Every red flag in a three piece suit."
"Including the CEO."Michael leaned forward.
"Yes."I said.
"The very intense one."He added.
"Yes."I said.
"The one who looks at you like he has already filed paperwork."He said.
"Yes." I hissed.
"Oh, this is juicy."He grinned.
"I am not the heroine." I said quickly. "I am a side character. Background noise, disposable. I was supposed to die early and motivate someone else's character growth."
"Rude."Michael gasped.
"I know!"I frowned.
"And Wanessa Roisane is-"He began.
"The original female lead." I said. "The actual protagonist. The universe wants her. I am a typo."
Michael sat back, considering.
"So." He said slowly. "You are telling me my coworker is a reincarnated author trapped inside her own book, trying not to get killed by a billionaire she invented."
"Yes."I sighed.
He clapped once.
"Best. Coworker. Ever."Michael grinned.
"That's your reaction?"I stared at him.
"I was expecting aliens or a cult." He shrugged. "This is way better."
"You are not alarmed enough."I sighed.
"I am thrilled." He corrected. "Do you know how boring my life was before this?"
"I need help, Michael."I buried my face in my hands.
"With what?"He leaned closer.
"With avoiding the plot." I said. "With surviving, with making sure I don't accidentally trigger a tragic arc by ordering the wrong drink."
"Ah."His grin turned sharp.
"Ah?"I asked.
"So you need a co-conspirator."Michael said.
"Yes."I said.
He stood, dramatic as hell, and placed a hand over his heart.
"Then I accept." He declared. "As your loyal side character ally."
"You are enjoying this far too much."I peeked at him.
"Of course I am." He said. "I am in a novel. There's a cafe. There's a rich villain. There's tension."
"This is not a game!"I shouted.
"Every good story needs comic relief." He said. "That's me."
Despite myself, a laugh escaped. Then his expression softened just a little.
"So." He said, quieter now. "How do you survive?"
I met his eyes.
"By staying invisible." I said. "By not attracting attention. By not letting Xavier Stoneheart fixate on me."
Michael nodded then smirked.
"You know he already has, right?"He asked.
I groaned, collapsing onto the couch.
"Michael."I sighed.
"I am just saying." He teased. "For a side character, you're doing a terrible job blending in."
I closed my eyes. the plot had teeth, and now it knew my name. But at least I wasn't facing it alone. The next morning, the cafe 'Delicious in Sin' was humming with its usual mix of espresso machines, sizzling milk, and early risers muttering about deadlines and overworked brains. I tied my apron, shoved my hair into a practical ponytail, and braced myself for what I knew was coming. Michael was already behind the counter, humming as he arranged croissants with unnecessary flair.
"Morning." I muttered."
"Morning." He replied cheerfully, tossing a towel over his shoulder. "Ready for another day of literary chaos and caffeine distribution?"
"I think we peaked yesterday."I groaned.
"You underestimate the universe." He said, popping a croissant into his mouth. "It has a very long memory and a very twisted sense of humor."
I rolled my eyes, adjusting cups that were already perfectly stacked. The rhythm of work was calming until the bell above the door jingled. I didn't look up immediately. Too many traumatic experiences are associated with bells.
"Oh no." Michael whispered.
I glanced and froze, there stood Xavier Stoneheart. Tailored coat, perfectly styled hair, the kind of presence that could suck the oxygen out of a room and still make it feel like it belonged there. He carried a thermos in one hand like he was casually invading the cafe for caffeine efficiency rather than fashionably stalking a side character, and approached the counter.
"Good morning." He said smoothly. "I will have a large black coffee. And make it strong."
I blinked.
"Uh… yes. Coming right up."I said.
Michael leaned over the counter, whispering,
"Do you… think he brought that thermos to look casual or to secretly check if the barista survived the gala?"Michael asked.
"Don't narrate my doom."I glared.
Xavier's gaze swept the cafe. He did not immediately notice us; the thermos was apparently enough to anchor him in the mortal plane. Then his eyes landed on me. Sharp, assessing, like he'd just remembered I existed and was mildly inconvenient to his plans.
"Espresso machine… check." He muttered under his breath, not realizing we could hear him.
Michael snorted.
"Do people normally narrate while ordering coffee?"Michael asked.
I ignored him and filled the cup.
"One large black coffee." I said carefully, sliding it across the counter.
Xavier picked it up, lips just brushing the rim. His eyes flicked to Michael.
"You." He said, sharp and precise. "You work here?"
"Yes, sir! Morning shifts mostly. I can froth milk and also explain existential crises if required."Michael straightened immediately.
Xavier raised an eyebrow but said nothing. His gaze flicked to me again. I handed him a napkin with a trembling hand.
"Side character energy." I muttered under my breath.
"I know, right? You can't hide anything from him."Michael chuckled quietly.
Xavier sipped his coffee and didn't blink, didn't look away.
"I hate this universe."I quietly muttered to myself.
"And yet, you somehow make it work. That is talent."
Michael, leaning closer with a grin, whispered.
I risked a glance at him. He winked. Then back at Xavier. Who was watching me like a very, very patient shark.
I sighed, picking up a cup for the next customer.
"Side character life: terrifying. Coffee slinging: mandatory. Survival: optional."I muttered.
"Optional, yes, but now with co-conspirator oversight.'Michael laughed."Michael laughed.
"I signed up for a shift, not a narrative ambush."I groaned.
The bell chimed again, and I realized, the day had only just begun. and judging by the way Xavier's thermos clinked against the counter, this plot had brought reinforcements.