Chapter 31 Anna
ANNA
The words were flowing like they hadn’t in years, a rush of creativity I hadn’t felt since college.
Back then, it had been different. I’d written a story about my mother, raw and personal, a piece that had won an award and drawn more attention than I’d ever expected.
Critics called it “stunning” and “heart-wrenching,” and I felt like I’d found my voice.
But nothing I’d written since had come close to that.
Until now.
My story had begun to take shape, and I found myself creating a love interest for my superhero protagonist. This character was infuriating and magnetic, someone who challenged the superhero and charmed him in equal measure.
The superhero swooped in, as he always does. The superhero saved her, as he always should.
I didn’t even realize what I was doing until I paused, rereading one of my scenes. The vulnerability, the push-and-pull of emotions. It was all so familiar. And yet, the realization didn’t scare me. It thrilled me.
I wasn’t just telling a love story. I was living one.