The First Mistake (1)

The door to my room creaked open. She didn't knock again.

My mom's gaze first fell on the books splayed on my table and the pens rolling beside it. Then, she looked at the monitor rolling god-knows which One Piece episode in the back while the dashboard of Google Ads lay open on the screen. Her eyes rolled over to the earphones sitting around, still blasting the last song I had set on loop, and finally, met mine.

I raised only my head from the bed, just enough to look at her and the small cheesecake logo on her chef's hat.

"If you're doing nothing, come help downstairs," she said.

"Sure. Be there in a minute."

The door creaked shut and I let my head back down before it swung open again.

My mom popped her head in.

"Didn't you use to read a lot of those novels?" She asked. "What happened to that?"

I fell silent at her question. The opening theme of the anime continued its noise.

"Just… There is nothing interesting coming out these days."

***

Life is bland.

I don't mean this in the cynical, nihilist, corny teenager way.

I feel bad every time I see someone working hard to get good scores on their tests. What is the point? You work hard to get into high school, work hard again to get into a good college, work hard once more to get a good job, and then? You just keep working hard for the next little goal or raise until you're just a sack of bones.

There is no spice in life. Nothing sweet, nothing bitter.

Life is bland.

"Edward, take this one to table four."

"On it!"

This cafe, or rather, this cake studio that my parents managed to build in the city center felt bland. It was likely something of great pride to them, it wasn't easy to rise from nothing and own a popular shop smack in the middle of a busy, posh, block of the richest city in the country.

For me, though, there was nothing like that.

And even if it was, this shop wouldn't be it. It was all the same week after week in this cafe.

I wanted something different. Something thrilling, something exciting.

When I was younger, I used to wonder if maybe terrorists would attack our school, or maybe robbers break into the shop at night. Of course, while the thought was juvenile, the idea wasn't. Even now, I wished for something exciting to happen. No matter where or when, I was so bored that my eyes always scoured for some form of excitement.

"Here's your chocolate cheesecake," I said. What if this person was some kind of spy? Thoughts like these always littered my head, of course, judging from the suit he would be a banker eating cakes behind his wife's back at best.

I took a last glance at the rest of the shop and slowly returned to the counter, there were few customers and all of them seemed to have everything they needed for the time being.

Sitting down, I pulled out my phone. My thumb stopped right above Instagram.

It felt like a disease.

I couldn't bring myself to open those apps again.

I placed my phone down again and pulled the basket full of empty sheets of paper closer. Spinning a pen, I started writing small messages for takeaways. It was an idea I had long back and had made quite a few people come back. A compliment, an encouraging word, anything. Most importantly, it gave me time to be with my thoughts.

It's alright. Most people would be busy with pre-exam seasons anyway. I wasn't missing out on anything.

Even soullessly scrolling had become boring. Every moment, it felt like the lack of stimulation clouded my mind.

As bad as it was, I sometimes imagined what it would be like if the shop burned down, if I developed a chronic illness, or even if… something happened to my parents.

Every moment these thoughts came in, I hated myself.

"Haah…" A sigh left me.

"Greeting customers with a sigh?" A playful voice snapped me out of my reverie. A pair of gleaming, gem-like blue eyes were staring down at me. Long blonde hair smoothly went below her curved, smug smile.

I immediately stood up. "It was a sigh of relief," I said. "I was worried you wouldn't come today."

This lady in a white blouse and a pleated blue skirt was a university student who lived down the street. A regular of our store for a very long time now.

"Smooth," she muttered. Even if the excuse was cringey, she was willing to let it slide. "So you don't want me to lose any weight?"

Ah, customers. There was no winning.

"What can I get you?"

"Two of the usual."

Was this some kind of bar? Even amidst the usual customers, she usually acted all weird and goofy. Even childish to a degree. I could never imagine being like that.

With the same smile, I packed up two slices of a blueberry and placed them in a bag. She paid for it, took the bag, and stopped when she took a glance inside.

"There's no note!"

"Oh, right." I picked up one of the notes I had just written and tossed it in her bag.

It seemed I had brought another of her whims to the surface, though, since she pulled it right out and flipped it open.

"Read it at home!"

"Nope. What if it's empty?"

I couldn't do anything against the crisp sound of the paper flipping open.

Her tightly pursed lips started to curve up, and soon enough, a sly smile bloomed on her face.

"Ahem, 'Your dreams await the best version of yourself.'"

"NO! Stop! The cringe, the cringe!"

My cries were useless. Like a titan flattening the lands of hope, she crushed my dignity mercilessly.

"'So do your part and take a break!' This is pretty good!" She smiled and placed the note back down. I tried to snatch it back, but there was no chance of it. "You write really good stuff, Edward. Why don't you become an author or something?"

"Author? No way."

"Why?" She tilted her head as if she really couldn't understand. "I've been reading your notes, you're pretty good. Imagine if you become successful."

"That's all one can do, imagine. It's not a real goal."

"Well, think about it."

"Sure. Give the note back and take a different one."

"As if!" She quickly bagged the note again and spun on her heels. I asked her to wait, but she only waved without even glancing back.

Being an author, huh…

It seemed like a dream. Just another one of those fantasies that I always have in my head.

In the end, I was left alone with the embarrassment that came with writing these stupid notes. I sighed again and sat back down. Once more, almost instinctively, my fingers moved over to Instagram, but I didn't stop myself this time.

[The Web's Biggest Web Novels Award is here! Win from a prize pool of over 100,000 dollars!]

[Anyone can be an Author! Even you!]

That was the first ad that opened up on Instagram.

Amazing. Did our phones really listen in on us?

"Creepy…"

"Excuse me?"

I looked up and found another customer standing right in front of me.

"Oh… um…"

I couldn't talk my way out of that one.

***

For the next few days, I couldn't get that thought out of my head.

The image of being rich and flying around, breakfast in Milan, book signings in Paris, Ted Talks in Frankfurt. Just the thought of it was enough to keep me stuck. Maybe I could have my own comic or movie, or an anime if I was to aim that way. It was extremely heart-pumping to think of.

Unknowingly, that neighbor and regular customer of ours had left another curse on me.

As days passed by, it became more and more annoying. One day, to escape this thought of writing I thought I'd maybe read.

Webnovels were my go-to. Even if I read dozens of books, nothing was better than those. I used to like reading webnovels before they became a bore, so I tried them again.

That was my mistake.

The mistake that eventually swallowed my whole life.

Because as soon as I read them, a thought struck.

"Maybe… I can write better than this?"