After 13 Years

I had a Wattpad account for thirteen years before I finally became a writer.

Thirteen years.

That number had always seemed almost impossible whenever I said it out loud.

Thirteen years ago, I had been younger, more hopeful, and convinced I would eventually become the kind of person who actually finished the stories she started.

I had created the account.

I had chosen a username.

I had spent hours scrolling through stories.

I had saved books I promised myself I would read.

I had even written a few opening paragraphs.

But I never published anything.

Not one chapter.

Not one story.

Nothing.

My profile sat quietly on the internet like an abandoned house with the lights still on.

Until tonight.

I stared at my laptop screen while the blinking cursor waited patiently for me to decide whether I was actually going to do this.

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of my laptop and the occasional sound of traffic outside my window.

A cup of coffee sat beside me, forgotten and cold.

My phone was face-down.

The lights were low.

And for the first time in thirteen years, the empty Wattpad page didn’t feel intimidating.

It felt like an invitation.

I smiled.

“Okay,” I whispered.

My fingers moved toward the keyboard.

Title: After 13 Years

I stared at the words.

Then I laughed quietly.

Of course that was what I was going to call it.

It felt almost too obvious.

I opened a new document.

For several minutes, I didn’t type anything.

Then I wrote:

I had a Wattpad account for thirteen years before I finally became a writer.

I stopped.

Read it again.

Then smiled.

Maybe this could actually work.

I continued.

Her name was Avery Rose.

Avery.

I had always liked that name.

She was twenty-seven, independent, stubborn, and secretly terrified that she was running out of time to become the person she was supposed to be.

She lived in a city she loved but didn’t feel like she belonged in.

She worked at a small beauty studio during the day and wrote at night.

She had a complicated relationship with her mother.

A best friend who knew too much.

An ex she absolutely refused to talk about.

And a dream she had almost given up on.

I typed faster.

Avery was everything I wished I could sometimes be.

Confident.

Fearless.

Beautiful in a way that didn’t require anyone else’s approval.

She didn’t wait for permission.

She simply went after what she wanted.

I paused.

Then I added one more thing.

Avery was lonely.

Not the kind of lonely that came from being alone.

The kind that came from being surrounded by people and still feeling like nobody really saw you.

That line made me stop.

My smile disappeared.

Because that wasn’t Avery.

That was me.

I leaned back in my chair.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Maybe we’re making this a little too personal.”

I almost deleted the entire paragraph.

Instead, I kept writing.

Avery had a dream of opening her own beauty studio.

She wanted a life that felt beautiful—not because it looked perfect on Instagram, but because it actually belonged to her.

And then there was him.

I needed a name.

I thought for a moment.

Elias.

No.

Too serious.

Julian.

Too predictable.

Noah.

Too sweet.

I smiled.

Luca.

Yes.

Luca Bennett.

Twenty-nine.

Dark hair.

Brown eyes.

Quiet.

Confident.

The kind of man who didn’t need to announce that he had entered a room because everyone noticed anyway.

I wrote his first scene.

Avery met Luca on a rainy Thursday night.

They reached for the same umbrella outside a coffee shop.

Their hands touched.

He looked at her.

She looked at him.

And—

I stopped.

My phone buzzed.

I jumped.

I looked at the screen.

A notification.

My heart settled when I realized it was only an email.

I sighed and tossed the phone back onto the desk.

“Focus.”

I turned back to my laptop.

Then froze.

My fingers hadn’t touched the keyboard.

But there was a new sentence on the screen.

I stared at it.

He was already waiting for her.

I frowned.

I hadn’t written that.

Maybe I had.

Maybe I had typed it without realizing.

I clicked the undo button.

The sentence disappeared.

I laughed nervously.

“Okay. I’m tired.”

I saved the document.

Then decided I was done for the night.

Tomorrow, I’d come back to it.

Tomorrow, I’d figure out where the story was going.

Tomorrow, I’d introduce Luca properly.

I closed my laptop.

Turned off the lamp.

And climbed into bed.

For the first time in years, I fell asleep excited about something I had created.

• • •

3:17 A.M.

My phone buzzed.

I opened my eyes.

The room was completely dark.

For a moment, I didn’t know where I was.

Then my phone buzzed again.

I reached for it.

A Wattpad notification.

I frowned.

I hadn’t published anything.

I hadn’t even told anyone I was writing.

I unlocked my phone.

Someone commented on your story.

My stomach tightened.

I opened the notification.

There was only one comment.

No profile picture.

No username I recognized.

Just a blank account.

The comment said:

Don’t write about him.

I stared at the screen.

My heart started beating faster.

I clicked the profile.

Nothing.

No stories.

No followers.

No following.

The account had been created tonight.

I went back to my story.

I opened the draft.

My eyes widened.

The sentence I had deleted earlier was back.

He was already waiting for her.

Except this time, there was something underneath it.

A second sentence.

One I definitely hadn’t written.

And he’s been waiting for thirteen years.

I stopped breathing.

I stared at the screen.

Then another notification appeared.

Someone commented on your story.

I opened it.

The same anonymous account.

This time, the message was longer.

You don’t remember me yet.

My hands went cold.

I dropped the phone onto my bed.

“No.”

I told myself it was a prank.

Someone had somehow found my account.

Maybe an old friend.

Maybe someone who knew me.

Maybe—

My phone buzzed again.

I didn’t want to look.

I looked anyway.

Another comment.

But you will.

Then, beneath it:

Tomorrow. 8:00 PM. Bellamy’s.

I stared at the words.

Bellamy’s.

The coffee shop I had just invented for Avery and Luca.

Except Bellamy’s didn’t exist.

At least…

I didn’t think it did.

I grabbed my laptop.

Opened Google.

Typed:

Bellamy’s coffee shop

My search results loaded.

My blood ran cold.

There it was.

A small coffee shop downtown.

Bellamy’s Café.

The address appeared underneath.

I stared at the screen.

I had never heard of it.

Never visited it.

Never seen it.

And yet, according to the search results, Bellamy’s had been there for almost twenty years.

My phone buzzed one last time.

I slowly looked down.

A new message.

Not from Wattpad.

From an unknown number.

Don’t be late, Jasmine.

I stopped.

Because I had never told my story my real name.

And I had never told anyone about Bellamy’s.

I looked back at my laptop.

The cursor was blinking.

Waiting.

And beneath the words After 13 Years, a new line appeared on the screen.

One I hadn’t typed.

Chapter Two: Bellamy’s

I stared at it.

Then whispered the only thing that came to mind.

“Who are you?”

The cursor blinked once.

Twice.

And then another sentence appeared.

You wrote me.