Ariya had read the ending ten times.

It still hurt every time.

Her eyes stung as she stared at the final lines of the novel. Rayan Faruq, the second male lead—the kindest character, the one who loved quietly and deeply—was dead. Just like that.

Meanwhile, Meera, the original female lead, had married Zayyan Mirza—the cold, arrogant first male lead who never cared about anyone but her.

Ariya shut the book slowly, fingers trembling.

“…Why him?” she whispered. “Why does the second lead always lose? Why did Rayan have to die when he loved her so purely?”

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of rain outside her window. Her heart felt heavy, her chest tight. The injustice of the story clung to her like fog. Rayan wasn’t just a character to her—he felt real. His pain, his love, his heartbreak. It was too much.

She laid back in bed, clutching the book to her chest.

“I wish I could save you,” she said softly. “Even once…”

Lightning flashed outside. The room flickered with sudden light, and before she could react, a strange dizziness hit her.

Everything went dark.

She woke up in a bed that didn’t belong to her.

Soft silk sheets. A faint vanilla scent. Warm light peeking through a grand window.

Ariya blinked.

This wasn’t her room. This wasn’t her world.

She sat up fast—and froze.

Her hands weren’t hers.

They were slender, delicate. Rings glittered on her fingers. Her long hair, spilling across the pillow, was a dark chestnut brown.

Then it hit her.

The mirror across the room.

She stood up on shaking legs and walked to it. The woman in the reflection stared back—sharp eyes, elegant features, a perfectly shaped mouth that looked like it only knew how to smirk.

Seraphina West.

The villainess.

Ariya stumbled back. “No way…”

Her heart raced as memories of the book poured into her mind. Seraphina—the rich, proud woman who insulted Meera at every event. The one who clung to Zayyan in desperation. The one everyone hated.

And the one who died alone after Rayan’s death.

“No. No. I can’t be her—”

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

“Miss West,” came a butler’s voice, calm but cold. “Mr. Zayyan Mirza is waiting in the east lounge.”

Ariya’s breath caught.

Zayyan…?

The man she hated most in the book. The one who took Meera, ignored Rayan’s pain, and stood on top of a world built from broken hearts.

Her hands clenched into fists.

So this was real. She was inside the novel.

But maybe…

Maybe this was her chance.

Not to win the first male lead.

Not to fix Meera’s love story.

But to save Rayan Faruk, the boy who deserved more!

Note:

This is my first time writing a novel, and I don’t know if it’s good or bad. But I’ve poured my heart into it. I hope you’ll enjoy the story and support me as I learn and grow. Thank you for reading. 💜

Episode 2:

The soft knock at the door pulled Ariya from her tangled thoughts.

“Miss West,” the butler said, voice calm and respectful, “Mr. Zayyan Mirza requests your presence in the east lounge.”

Ariya’s breath hitched. She had heard the name before — the cold, proud first male lead who married Meera, the original female lead. And from everything she knew, Zayyan was not someone to be taken lightly.

Gathering her courage, she nodded and followed the butler through the long, silent corridors of the mansion.

As they neared the east lounge, the muffled sound of a man’s voice reached her ears—firm, serious.

The butler paused and opened the heavy wooden door.

Inside, Zayyan Mirza stood with his back to the window, arms crossed, staring out at the sprawling city beyond.

He turned slowly when he noticed her.

His dark eyes were cold and unreadable, but beneath the surface was a fierce intensity that made Ariya’s heart skip.

“Seraphina,” he greeted, voice steady but without warmth.

Ariya swallowed hard. She was still getting used to this strange new body, and the arrogance and cruelty of the villainess weighed heavily on her.

But there was no turning back.

“I came as soon as I was summoned,” she said carefully.

Zayyan’s gaze sharpened. “I’m not here to welcome you.”

He took a step closer, lowering his voice. “I came to warn you.”

Ariya blinked, confusion mixing with fear.

“Warn me?” she repeated.

“Yes,” Zayyan said. “You’ve been interfering with Meera Khan.”

Ariya’s chest tightened. The original female lead—the sweet, untouchable girl she secretly despised.

“Seraphina, you’ve been trying to get close to me,” Zayyan continued, “offering yourself, seeking my approval and attention. But you forget your place. I will never accept you.”

Ariya’s fingers curled into fists. The villainess’ feelings were complicated, but this was the first time Zayyan had spoken so clearly.

“I don’t want your approval,” she said quietly. “I want to protect what’s mine.”

Zayyan’s eyes narrowed. “Protect? Or destroy?”

She hesitated. The villainess was known for cruelty, for hurting the innocent.

But Ariya was not Seraphina. She had entered this body with a mission — to save Rayan, the second lead who died without love.

Still, the danger of this world was real. And Zayyan was a man who would stop at nothing.

“Listen carefully,” Zayyan warned. “If you continue to cross the line, if you harm Meera or anyone else, I will not hesitate to stop you. And trust me — I am not easy to stop.”

Ariya looked up, determination shining in her eyes.

“I’m not here to fight you,” she said. “But I won’t stand by while innocent people get hurt.”

Zayyan studied her for a moment, then finally nodded.

“Very well. But remember, Seraphina — your actions have consequences. For you, and for everyone around you.”

With that, he turned and walked toward the window again.

The room fell silent except for the soft hum of the city outside.

Ariya exhaled slowly.

This world was dangerous. The path ahead would be harder than she ever imagined.

...Episode 3 — "Wait… Is That Really Seraphina?"...

Written by the Author

Ariya had never worn such an expensive dress in her life.

She stared at her reflection — golden hair cascading over her shoulders, a deep emerald gown hugging her curves, and heels that could probably kill someone if she tripped wrong. She muttered under her breath, “Villainess or not, these rich people sure know how to dress.”

The butler had informed her that a luncheon was being held at the Mirza estate, and as one of the elite socialites, Seraphina West was expected to attend.

Ariya’s brain? Screaming. Her heart? Panic. Her decision? "Let’s wing it."

---

The moment she entered the garden party, all heads turned. Not because of her usual icy attitude or a dramatic entrance — but because she... smiled.

Smiled.

"Is that... Seraphina West?" one girl whispered behind her hand.

“No way. That must be a lookalike. The real Seraphina only smiles when she's about to ruin someone’s life.”

Another boy blinked rapidly, choking on his champagne. “She just complimented the waiter. And thanked him. Seraphina said ‘thank you.’ I’m calling the hospital.”

---

Ariya wandered around, greeting people, throwing out polite small talk like “The weather is lovely,” and “That dress suits you so well!”

She was trying her best to act "normal," but the crowd was watching her like she was a glitch in the matrix.

Just when she thought she’d survived the first wave of social torture, she came face to face with...

Meera.

The real female lead of the novel. Kind, quiet, and always dressed in soft pastel tones like she came out of a Pinterest board.

Ariya (as Seraphina) froze.

In the novel, this is where the villainess would usually insult Meera's dress, humiliate her for being from a middle-class background, and accuse her of trying to seduce Zayyan.

Instead…

“You look lovely today,” Ariya said with a small smile. “That shade of pink brings out your eyes.”

Everyone gasped.

Even Meera blinked. “Um… thank you?”

Silence. Tension.

And then…

A guy near the punch table dropped his glass. “The apocalypse is coming.”

---

Ariya tried to keep her cool as she moved toward the buffet table. “Okay, not dead yet,” she muttered to herself.

But before she could stab a shrimp skewer, a familiar cold voice froze her in place.

“You’re being unusually pleasant today.”

She turned. Of course.

Zayyan Mirza.

In his signature black suit, dark eyes unreadable, one brow slightly raised like he was dissecting her existence. He looked even more intimidating under the sun — like a vampire at a tea party.

Ariya gave him her most innocent smile. “What can I say? I’m trying something new. Personal growth.”

Zayyan stared at her in silence. Then said flatly, “Don’t touch the wine.”

“Why?” she asked.

“You’ll start acting like yourself again.”

---

Back in her room later that evening, Ariya flopped onto her bed and groaned.

“This world is insane. These people are insane. And I’m the one stuck playing a villain everyone thinks has been possessed.”

But then she remembered Rayan.

The second male lead. The one who was still alive... for now.

She sat up, determination rising in her chest.

“They can gossip all they want. I don’t care.”

She looked out the window, the moonlight hitting her face.

“I didn’t come here to fix my reputation. I came here to rewrite someone’s ending.”

Next: A run-in with Rayan Faruq. But will he remember Seraphina… or hate her too?