CHAPTER ONE: A Reader's Disappointment

ANASTASIA'S POV:

I just wanted them to have a happy ending, you know? The lead couple in my favorite novel, they deserved it. So, I started meddling, thinking I could make it happen. But, I ended up stealing the male lead from the female lead. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I never meant to betray anyone. I've inadvertently ruined what could've been a great love story to satisfy my own selfish desire. How I wish I never interfered and let things unfold as they were meant to.

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The soft glow of my phone casts a warm light on my face as I curl up on my worn-out armchair, ready to immerse myself in the final chapter of ‘Bonded’ - my cherished e-book. A cup of chamomile tea rests on a coaster by my side.

As I swipe the screen to turn the pages, the plot thickens, and so does the frown on my face. The once delightful tale of romance is unraveling, leaving knots of disappointment and disbelief in its wake. The main leads, Yvanna and Hugh, stand on the brink of a breakup. I adjust my eyeglasses as my eyes widen with bafflement, and my lips form a silent ‘Oh no!’ as I clutch my phone like a lifeline. 

I’ve invested emotional real estate in their love story, and now it’s crashing down like a Jenga tower in the hands of an unsteady player. Yvanna, once the epitome of gallantry, is now declaring her need for space. Hugh, with a clenched digital face, isn’t having it. He retorts with the kind of eloquence only fictional characters seem to possess, delivering lines that sound profound but make me want to hurl my phone across the room.

"No, no, no!" I exclaim, as if my protestations could somehow alter their fictional course of love. 

The chamomile tea trembles in its cup, mirroring the turmoil in my heart. The once soothing glow of my phone’s screen now feels like a spotlight, revealing the harsh reality that my beloved characters are calling it quits. Faster than I realize, my disappointment transforms into a fiery indignation that bubbles up within me.

"Really, Yvanna? 'I need to find myself'?" I mutter, throwing my hand in the air. "And Hugh just accepted that?!"

I suddenly envision myself storming into the fictional world, a digital vigilante with a cape made of rejection letters and a sword forged from broken engagement rings. Yet, in the real world, all I can do is scowl at my cellphone’s screen, wondering how my favorite author could betray me and million others. 

"How dare Author Agness callously dismantle the love story I’ve supported and loved?! I've been through thick and thin with these characters, d.amn it!" My voice ricocheting off the walls of my bedroom, a desperate plea to an invisible author who has played puppeteer with my emotions. "And this is how she’ll repay me?! Breaking them apart like they're disposable dolls?!"

My narrow gaze remains fixed on the screen, as if the e-book itself could explain the treachery unfolding within its pixels. A heavy sigh escapes my lips, laden with the weight of resentment. "Why, oh why, did she have to end it like this?" 

I trace the lines of the digital text with my fingertip, as if seeking to rewind the narrative to a point where Yvanna and Hugh still held hands instead of breaking hearts. I feel powerless against the arbitrary decisions of this s.tupid author! But a stubborn ember of resistance burns within me. 

“I can't change Bonded’s ending, but I refuse to let it define my own story. Not today."

With a determined swipe, I navigate the HappyReading app. Author Agness, a name once synonymous with literary sanctuary, now invokes a disdain I can no longer contain. My trembling thumb hovers over the star ratings. One star after another, I click, each tap punctuating my discontent. Bonded is now destined to be marred by the venom I’m about to unleash. My thumb then dances to the space reserved for comments, a virtual realm where opinions become weapons. 

-Utter disappointment! The author doesn’t have a talent in writing! She has no idea what a good story is like!- I type, the keys on the screen clacking under the force of my anger.  -I invested time, money and emotion, only to be slapped with this nonsense! Are you kidding me?!-

I scoff at my own words, reveling in the catharsis of expressing my frustration. The virtual world becomes my sounding board, and I continue my tirade, each sentence a nail in the coffin of my once-admired author.

-Did you even care about the readers, or were you just toying with us?! This is not art; this is garbage!-

As my comments grow more venomous, a twisted satisfaction courses through me in my digital rebellion. The emotional investment that has fueled my admiration continues to morphed into a vengeful determination to tarnish the author's reputation. With a final, scathing remark, I hit the enter key. 

I lean back in my chair, a hollow victory settling over me. The act of venting my frustration has provided a fleeting sense of vindication, but as the screen glows in my bedroom, I can’t shake the residue of guilt that clings to my conscience.  

With a heavy body and a lazy movement, I leave my chair and trudge my way to my bed before plonking myself on it. I take off my eyeglasses, toss it somewhere, before covering my face with a pillow, while clutching my phone in one hand so tightly. 

The clock ticks away the hours, and me, still nursing the wounds of my disappointment, gropes for my eyeglasses, puts them back on, then scrolls through the comments section of Bonded once again with curiosity and frustration. As I scroll, something catches my eye – a notification from the author herself! A message in the comments section, addressed to Anastasia Sanchez! 

-Dear Anastasia,- the message begins, -I've read your passionate comments, and I can't help but feel the intensity of your emotions. I'm hosting a small meet & greet fanfare tomorrow, 9 AM, at Moonlit Books Café. Your candidness has intrigued me, and I would be honored if you could join me. Let's discuss Bonded over a cup of coffee. I promise it'll be a day filled with surprises. Author Agness, your storyteller.-

My eyes widen as I flip over the bed, and for a moment, the lingering bitterness evaporates and is replaced by excitement. The screen blurs for a moment as I contemplate the unexpected turn of events. My fingers hesitate over the keys as I craft a response. 

-Author Agness, I’d love to attend. Let's talk, and perhaps you can shed some light on the choices that led to that heart-wrenching ending. I also have some proposals on how to make a better storyline your characters deserve and your readers will truly appreciate.-

With a deep breath, I press enter, the virtual bridge between her and me is now solidified. A renewed sense of anticipation squirms through my veins at the prospect of discussing the characters I've come to love and loathe, and perhaps, just perhaps, influencing the narrative that has become a part of my very existence. The disappointment I felt after reaching the last chapter of Bonded still lingers, but now, it's blended with a concoction of hope and anticipation.

As I imagine our conversation, my thoughts dance like fireflies in the night. I can almost see Author Agness' eyes lighting up with inspiration as she listens to my impassioned plea for Bonded's romantic redemption.