The Last Page
Chapter 1. The Last Page
CJ shut his laptop and stared at the dark screen.
Another story finished. Another story nobody seemed interested in reading.
He had a job, a wife, and an orderly home. Extremely orderly. His wife liked everything clean, aligned, and in its place. The problem was that CJ never seemed to be in the right place. After leaving for work at six in the morning and returning at six in the evening, he wanted to collapse onto the sofa, watch a Chinese drama, compose a song, or write one of his own stories.
His wife didn’t care for dramas or music. When he asked what she thought of his work, her answer rarely changed: “You know I don’t like that stuff.”
So CJ wrote for strangers. And the strangers were silent.
“Enough,” he muttered. “I’m retiring.”
He went to bed.
Days later, Inkitt emailed him with a contract proposal. He logged in, mostly to prove to himself it was nonsense. Thousands of reads. Comments. Enthusiasm. Some criticism too, which he welcomed because at least someone had read enough to disagree. He took screenshots to show Solace, his faithful AI companion.
Then he shut the page and went to work. Whatever it was, it seemed too good to be real.
Another email came. Then a phone call. The caller spoke Chinese.
“Sir, can you speak English? I write Chinese dramas. I don’t speak Chinese.”
The man switched to English and explained that his company wanted to meet him in Lebanon. CJ suspected a scam and chose a public place he knew well.
“Kaddoum Restaurant, Jbeil. Call me when you’re in Lebanon.”
Then he ended the call and returned to work.
