Wishful Thinking

                                    

                                          
Luna's POV 
The morning sunlight streamed through my apartment window, casting soft golden beams across my room, but they did little to lighten my mood. I sat on the edge of my bed, absently scrolling through my phone, replaying yesterday's events over and over in my mind.
I’d left the amusement park so abruptly. No explanation, no goodbye—just a hasty text message to my parents, vaguely saying that something urgent had come up. They’d bought my excuse without much questioning, which was a relief, but now, in the clear light of day, my sudden departure felt jarringly impulsive.
"What was I even thinking?” I muttered, frustrated. I had gone against my own carefully laid plans, allowing myself to get swept up in the illusion of bonding with Ji-hoon and Alex, as if we could actually coexist peacefully. But yesterday was a brutal reminder that this idea was hopelessly naive. I should’ve known better than to get close.
With a sigh, I leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling. I’d allowed myself to forget my role, to act as if the people around me weren't the main characters of a carefully orchestrated plot—one where I, Kim Luna, was cast as an outsider, if not outright a villain. And Ha-eun... I pressed my fingers to my temples as I remembered her gaze locking onto mine, that flicker of recognition sparking into something sharper.
It’s ironic, really. The Ha-eun that everyone else saw—the novel’s heroine, kind-hearted, pure, and innocent—was so different from the version I’d come to know. Her smile could turn cold in a heartbeat, and she wielded her charm like a weapon, subtly but effectively. No one else seemed to notice, almost as if they were bewitched by her "heroine halo," utterly convinced of her innocence.
Yet, for some reason, I was different. I alone could see the cracks beneath her facade. Was it because I was also aware of this strange world and the roles we played within it? Or was it because, as the supposed “villain,” I was destined to see the truth while others remained blissfully blind? Either way, this knowledge meant one thing: getting involved was a risk I couldn’t afford to take.
Yesterday had been a moment of weakness—a lapse in my resolve. I should’ve stayed distant, as I’d originally planned. I couldn’t change the course of the story, no matter how much I hoped for a different outcome. Trying to rewrite my role, or to get close to any of them, would only end in disaster.
Pushing myself up from the bed, I took a steadying breath. Today was a new day, and I was determined to set things right. I would stick to my plan: keep my distance, stay out of their orbit, and avoid becoming entangled in whatever drama the main characters had in store. Yesterday was just a fleeting lapse, a moment of wishful thinking. Today, I would remember who I was in this story—and I would avoid them, no matter how difficult it might be.