I stared at the ceiling for a few minutes after closing the last story, letting the frustration fade out of me slowly.
The room was quiet again.
Chloe was still out.
No messages. No noise. Just me and my thoughts—dangerous combination lately.
I rolled onto my side and unlocked my phone again, scrolling absentmindedly through the app.
If romance stories were going to annoy me today, I needed something different.
Something distracting.
Something less… emotional.
My thumb paused on a title I hadn't noticed before.
"Rewinded Life: I Woke Up in the Past."
I blinked.
Transmigration.
Time travel.
Second chances.
I hesitated for a second, then tapped it.
I used to think about this kind of thing a lot when I was younger.
What if I could go back?
Fix things.
Say the right words.
Avoid the mistakes I didn't even realize I was making at the time.
It had always felt comforting to imagine.
Like there was a version of life where everything made more sense if I just got a redo.
I started reading.
At first, I expected something light.
But the story pulled me in almost immediately.
The main character wakes up in a different time—same world, but earlier version of her life. She remembers everything that went wrong the first time. The people she lost. The choices she regretted.
And this time, she tries to do things differently.
I found myself reading faster without noticing.
There was something oddly soothing about it.
Like the idea of a second chance made everything in real life feel less final.
Less heavy.
The main character met people again—friends, classmates, even strangers who would later become important.
And then there was him.
The male lead.
He wasn't loud or flashy.
Just… steady.
Observant.
Someone who didn't force his way into her life but somehow kept appearing at the right moments anyway.
I slowed down while reading those parts.
He noticed things about her others didn't.
The way she paused before speaking.
The way she tried to act fine when she clearly wasn't.
And instead of pushing her, he just stayed.
Present.
Consistent.
I stared at the screen a little longer than before.
"…why is he actually kind of perfect," I muttered under my breath.
It wasn't dramatic love at first sight in the story.
It was quieter.
Slower.
The kind that built without permission.
I felt my chest loosen slightly as I kept reading.
The more I read, the more I slipped into it.
And for a moment, I caught myself thinking something I used to think often before college got messy.
If I could restart… maybe I'd do it better.
Maybe I'd be braver.
More open.
Less stuck in my head.
The story continued, and the male lead did something simple—nothing dramatic—but it made the main character pause.
He handed her something she had dropped without making a big deal out of it.
No teasing.
No expectation.
Just… noticing her and acting on it like it was normal.
I felt something warm settle in my chest.
That's when I stopped.
I stared at the screen for a moment.
Then slowly lowered my phone.
And for the first time, I didn't feel like the story was just fiction.
I felt like I wanted someone like that in real life.
Not perfect.
Just… someone who noticed me without making it complicated.
I blinked and let out a small breath, almost surprised by the thought.
Then I shook my head slightly.
"That's not real," I whispered.
But even as I said it, the feeling didn't go away.
It just stayed there quietly… like something I hadn't admitted to myself before.