Chapter 64: Late Night Visit (I)
Rosalie:
My finger hovered over the screen for much longer than I expected.
The glowing "Publish" button looked strangely intimidating for something so small. It wasn’t like I was uploading anything important. It wasn’t some life-changing decision. It wasn’t like people were waiting for me or counting on me. And yet my heart wouldn’t stop beating strangely as I stared at the screen.
My room was quiet except for the faint hum of the ceiling fan and occasional sounds from the street outside, but inside my chest it felt noisy. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply before releasing the breath slowly. Then before I could lose courage again, I opened my eyes and pressed my finger on the option.
The screen refreshed.
Chapter One - Published.
I stared.
Nothing happened. There was no dramatic music, no congratulations, and no instant success. Just a tiny change on the screen informing me my novel had gone live.
And somehow that made me smile.
For as long as I could remember, I had loved novels. My father always gifted me books on my birthdays and even during Christmas. And even back when I still lived in the Blackthorn packhouse, reading had always been my escape. Whenever things became too loud, too overwhelming, too lonely, I read. Human novels. Werewolf novels. Fantasy. Romance. Historical. I read anything I could get my hands on.
And somewhere along the way I started imagining scenes of my own. Thinking of characters. Alternate endings. Different choices. I still remembered Christmas last year when I finally sat down and told myself I would actually write something. I spent days planning a story, wrote several Chapters with embarrassing levels of excitement... and then deleted everything after rereading it and deciding it was terrible.
A month later I tried again. Different story. Different characters. I even completed three Chapters. Then lost confidence and deleted that too. Looking back now, maybe the stories weren’t even that bad. Maybe I just wasn’t brave enough to let anyone see them.
Then that drama happened.
My expression twisted immediately. I still couldn’t think about it without feeling personally offended. That poor second male lead. It had been months and I still felt angry. Who gave writers and makers permission to make someone so perfect and then destroy his ending like that?
I had spent days feeling irrationally upset before opening my writing app and thinking - fine, if they won’t give him a happy ending then I will.
And that fanfiction written on pure impulse became the first thing I ever published.
I still remembered how nervous I felt uploading that first Chapter and expecting absolutely nobody to read it. Instead people actually liked it. Comments appeared. Readers waited for updates. People screamed in the comments with me about the original ending and celebrated every tiny scene I wrote.
Over time I started interacting with authors on the platform and learned far more than I expected. Things like rankings, contracts, update schedules, retention, reader expectations, monetization... things I never even knew existed before. And somehow over the past six months, writing slowly stopped feeling impossible.
Which was why when I started thinking about money, rent, bills, surviving, and paying back what I owed Eiden - my brain eventually returned to writing.
Maybe this wouldn’t work. Maybe nobody would read. Maybe I wouldn’t earn anything. But at least I had one thing I was already doing instead of searching endlessly. At least this was something. A start.
As for what kind of novel I was writing this time?
My face immediately heated and I shook my head. No. I wasn’t going to think too deeply about it. I was just writing what sold. That was all. There was absolutely no deeper meaning behind choosing werewolf romance. Or reverse harem. Or dangerous male leads. Or emotionally unavailable men. Or a female lead trying to rebuild her life.
Absolutely none.
I ignored my own thoughts and quickly published the remaining Chapters. Four Chapters in total.
I had spent the last three days working on them - writing, deleting, rewriting, editing, changing names, changing scenes, reading dialogue aloud, deleting entire sections, questioning my life choices, then rewriting again.
And now they were out there.
I opened the novel page and stared. The cover looked ridiculously dramatic. The synopsis was shamelessly clickbait. And the first four Chapters ended on emotional hooks.
Objectively it had potential.
I quickly exited before I could cringe and closed my phone completely. Then I leaned back against my chair and looked toward the notebook lying nearby where I had written rough budgeting plans for the remaining ten days of the month.
Even if the novel succeeded, it would take time. Weeks. Months. Or maybe even longer. And there was every chance the platform wouldn’t offer me a contract at all. Which meant, I still needed another job.
With that realization, I made up mind to start searching for a job from coming morning.
The thought settled in my chest and oddly made me feel calmer. At least I was doing something. At least I wasn’t waiting anymore.
I was still staring into space when-
Ding dong!
My entire body stiffened. I blinked and then frowned.
Doorbell? At this hour?
I immediately checked my phone.
11:03 PM.
My brows pulled together. Nobody should be coming. I wasn’t expecting anyone.
Slowly standing from the chair, I walked toward the window and pulled the curtain aside. The street outside looked quiet with just a few street lamps illuminating it and just one or two people passing by. There were no obvious cars parked near my house and no movement.
But from my angle, I couldn’t see the porch.
A strange feeling suddenly crept up my spine. It wasn’t fear exactly, just... awareness.
I stood there for a few more seconds, but then the bell rang again. Slowly, I turned away from the window and started making my way downstairs.
With every step, the house suddenly started feeling much quieter than before. I reached the bottom of the stairs and looked toward the front door, with absolutely no idea who would come looking for me at eleven at night.
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