Chapter 1: The Extra’s Arrival

When I landed in the story, the plot had already wrapped up. The main couple ran the town’s only bakery together, and the second male lead—my husband—kept to himself on Maple Avenue.

The air smelled of freshly cut grass and a whiff of barbecue, the kind of small-town quiet you find when the real story is already over. Somewhere, a screen door slammed and a dog barked, the kind of background noise you only get in places where everyone knows your name. It felt like a Saturday block party was in full swing somewhere just out of sight—happy endings for everyone but me.

I was the extra in someone else’s happy ending, the kind of character who fades out before the credits roll. Yet, somehow, I ended up married to the second male lead.

It always felt like I was wearing shoes a size too big, stumbling through scenes that didn’t belong to me. I twisted the plain gold band on my finger, its weight always reminding me this wasn’t my story. But here I was, bound by marriage and all the routines that came with it, to a man whose heart was never truly mine.

I always knew his heart belonged to the heroine, and that my fate was set. But after three years of marriage, he took care of me in every way, even promising me a long life.

He never missed a doctor’s appointment, remembered every single one of my allergies, and filled our pantry with Campbell’s chicken noodle soup, saltines, and my favorite ginger ale. Every night, he’d check my temperature and leave sticky notes in neon pink and orange, each one a little lifeline taped to the fridge, reminding me to take my meds. I almost believed him sometimes.

Just when I thought he might actually love me, the heroine was poisoned.

The news spread like wildfire, rolling in from the city and landing on the local radio, the kind of thing that makes you grip your mug a little tighter.

He rushed off to the city in a panic, forgetting it was the day of my illness. My phone stayed silent. I kept checking it, anyway, willing his name to light up the screen.

And that was the day everything changed. Our house felt colder, emptier—the silence ringing louder than any ambulance siren.