Why Did I Become the Villainess?

"Ysavel, are you intending to have noodles daily? Just observe how slender you're becoming," Lena muttered while tidying up the living room.

Lena is not just my roommate but also my sole friend in this world. Since I rarely go out, I don't have many friends. It doesn't help that I grew up as an orphan, so no one bothered to befriend me except her.

I look at her and sigh. "As if I have any other choice. You know how tight my budget is," I said, typing on my outdated laptop.

I'm currently working on my twenty-third novel, hopeful that it will be my first publish book. If it doesn't get published, I don't know where I'll end up.

Lena stops wiping the furniture and looks at me. "I could lend you some money if you want."

I decline her offer. "I already owe you so much. I don't want to increase that debt. Plus, eating noodles for a week won't be too bad. Once I submit this novel to my editor, I might have enough to enjoy a proper meal. Hopefully, they'll accept it for publishing."

I hope this novel gets accepted; otherwise, I'm not sure what I'll do. My blog site barely supports me; I can't rely on it.

Lena sits beside me and takes one of my hands. "Ysavel, I know this might sound out of line, but have you considered shifting careers?"

I pause for a minute and look back at Lena. She's been my friend since I started living independently. She's witnessed my desperation to become a writer, enduring the rejections of my novels while I persist in writing new ones. She understands that despite my struggles to make a living from it, I simply can't give up on my passion.

"You're aware of my passion for writing. It's more than just a job; it is already become part of who I am. I couldn't imagine life without it. Despite my current struggles, everyone begins somewhere. I'm certain that one day, I'll be a renowned writer recognized by everyone in this town."

Lena shakes her head in response to my answer. "Alright, I won't insist then. Just try not to be too tough on yourself. Have a proper meal, and consider going outside for some sunlight. You're looking quite pale." She rises from her seat and heads towards the kitchen. "I'll prepare something for you. Stop eating those noodles; they're not healthy."

    I look at her and smile. I'm truly grateful for Lena. Without her, I might be begging on the streets right now.

     Changing careers? Is it a feasible option for me? I glance at my old laptop. However, my passion for writing remains strong, despite the discouragement and heartbreak from all the rejections. I still hold onto the belief that I will become a successful writer.

Lena returns with a bowl of vegetable salad and a plate of spaghetti. My mouth instantly watered with the sight of it. Lena's cooking is always the best. "Thank you for the food," I say, setting down the chopsticks I was using for the noodles and eagerly digging into the pasta first. Finally, a delicious meal.

I paused in my meal as a thought struck me. "Lena, if I asked you to quit being a policewoman, would you do it?"

     "Why do you ask?"

     I put down my chopsticks and look at her. "I just remembered what you said about writing."

"Ysavel, that's a different matter, alright?" Lena taps the table in frustration. "I understand your passion for writing, but you also need to think about your current situation. Without your blog site, do you believe you could support yourself solely through your novels?"

I do understand where all these frustrations are coming from. There are moments when even I feel frustrated. I have a strong desire to write a story that reveryone will love, yet every novel I produce falls short.

"I understand, which is why I'm putting so much effort into my current novel. I promise you, this one will be my breakthrough."

Lena simply sighs and joins me in eating. She probably knows that no matter how often she tries to persuade me, I'll never turn my back on writing.

She sighs and gently takes hold of my hand. "I'm just concerned for you. I know you just don't say it to me, but I know you feel sad every time your stories get rejected. I want to support you, really. It's just that I want you to be happy too."

"But I am happy!"

She smiles and gives my hand a gentle squeeze. "Of course, you're happy. Writing brings you joy. But it's also the source of your sadness, Ysa."

I sighed and shut my laptop. "But that's part of growing Lena. Pain is a necessary part of learning. As a writer, I must explore various aspects of life to create compelling stories. But, thank you for your concern; I understand it comes from a place of caring, and I'm grateful for it."

Lena was about to speak when my phone abruptly rang. It was the alarm for my appointment with my editor.

I quickly gathered my things. "I'm sorry, Lena, but I need to leave now. I have an appointment with my editor today. I'll catch up with you later, alright?" I said my goodbyes to her and hurried out.

I'm aware that my efforts may appear futile to some, but I am confident they will yield results in the future. I am determined to become a successful writer.

With that thought in mind, I walk towards our office with a sense of purpose and happiness.

An hour later, I was walking home with a heavy heart for the 22nd time. My latest novel submission had been rejected once again. While they acknowledged the promising plot, they found the execution lacking. It had potential, but unfortunately, it wasn't enough to secure publication.

In frustration, I kicked a stone I spotted on the street, accidentally hitting a small child sitting at the corner.

She appears lost, adorned in luxurious and high-end clothing that hints her affluent background. With her blonde hair and blue eyes, she resembles a doll. However, her demeanor exudes that of a typical spoiled child. Despite my unintentional action, she continues to shriek and then directs a glare at me.

"Are you the one who threw the rock at me?" she asked, crossing her arms. She scrutinized me from head to toe, then frowned.

Without hesitation, I walk towards her and check if she's hurt. Offending someone like her is not an option for me. The money I have right now will only last me until next week. If I were to cause her any harm, I'm sure I'd end up as a beggar tomorrow.

"Are you alright? I apologize for accidentally throwing the rock at you," I express, wanting to ensure her well-being. But as I reach out to touch her, she pushes my hands away.

"Don't touch me, you filthy thing! Do you even realize what you've done? You nearly killed me!" The little girl shouts hysterically at me.

     She accused me of nearly killing her with the stone, but I didn't even get a chance to touch her, and the stone didn't even come close to hitting her. Why is this kid overreacting?

    "I'm sorry, okay. Would you like some candy? I have one here," I say, searching for the free candy the café waitress gave me earlier and offering it to her.

   The little girl swiftly slaps my hand with the candy and rushes towards a passerby, shouting, "She's poisoning me! Help!!!"

What on earth? Poisoning who? Her? I don't even know her. Why would I do such a thing?

I smile awkwardly at the passerby. "I apologize, my little sister's illness has acted up again. I'm not trying to harm her; she just thinks I am because she hasn't taken her medicine yet," I explain gently, while trying to pull the little girl's hand away from the passerby. "Let's go, little sister, Mother is already waiting for us."

"Mother, your face! I don't have an ugly sister like you!" she shouts hysterically, then bites my hand. "You're ugly!" With that, she runs towards an alley.

What's wrong with that child? Ugly? Me? She's the ugly one. Her whole family is ugly!

"Aren't you going to go after your sister? The alley she's running into is quite dangerous for a child like her," the passerby comments, expressing concern.

I look at the passerby and smile awkwardly. Why did I even say she's my sister? If I don't follow her, this person might think I truly intend to harm her. I guess I have no choice but to go after her.

   "Hehe, of course, I was just supposed to call our mother. Excuse me then."

With that, I hurriedly run towards the alley where the girl ran. I spot her atop the garbage bins, with two stray dogs barking at her.

    I quickly push the two stray dogs away and gently lower the little girl to the ground. "Are you okay? Did they bite you?" I ask with concern.

She looks at me bewildered, her expression filled with confusion.

"Come on, let's get out of here first. It's not safe with all these stray dogs around," I say as I lead her back the way we came.

"Why are you helping me?" the little girl asks once we're out of the alley. I stop and kneel down to her level. "I know I was mean to you and called you ugly. So, why?" she asks again.

"Because you needed help. I think anyone in my position would do the same. Anyway, what are you doing here? Where are your parents? Give me their contact information so I can call them for you."

She shakes her head and retrieves something from her bag. She hands me a vintage-looking notebook.

"Since you helped me, I'm giving this to you. You want to be a writer, right? Write your next novel in this notebook, and you'll surely become famous. But you should be-"

"YSAVELL!!" A loud shout echoes from a distance, interrupting our conversation. I turn to see Lena running towards me.

"Are you heading home?" Lena asks as she approaches, her gaze falling on the notebook I'm holding. "Did you buy this? It looks antique. Why did you buy this?"

I shake my head and begin to explain, "I didn't buy it, this little-" but my words trail off when I realize the girl is no longer there.

"What girl?" Lena asks, puzzled.

I quickly scan the area, but the little girl is nowhere to be found. "Do you see the little girl I was with?"

Lena looks at me, perplexed. "What girl are you talking about? I didn't see anyone with you. And if you were with someone, I would have noticed because I saw you come out of that alley," she explains, pointing towards the alley I emerged from.

"But I was really with a little girl when I walked out of that alley. You didn't see her?"

Lena shakes her head. "I really didn't see anyone. Maybe you're just tired or something. I've told you before, it's not good to write late into the night. Come on, let's go home. It's probably just your imagination."

I want to argue because I know I was with a little girl. As I glance across the street, I see the little girl waving at me. She gestures with her hands, as if trying to convey something, but I can't understand her. She waves again before walking towards a nearby building.

Perhaps her parents are there. I'm relieved she's safe, but I don't understand what the girl is saying. I hope it's not that important.