Pain & Thorns

First Encounter

Layla:

When I woke up this morning, I had no idea I was about to experience the greatest love I could ever imagine—or that I would lose it just as quickly.

It started like any other day. My friend Nancy had invited me to a bookstore she recently discovered. As I got ready, I felt a strange heaviness in my chest. I ignored it.

The bookstore was charming, quiet, and full of character. Nancy and I wandered through aisles, chatting about life, dreams, and love. She had plenty to say about romance; I, on the other hand, didn't. My love life was non-existent. Most of my experiences with love came from the pages of novels. Still, I smiled and nodded, trying to contribute.

As we strolled through one aisle, something tugged at me. I stopped, inexplicably drawn to a dark, leather-bound book with gilded edges titled Pain & Thorns. When I picked it up, I noticed the words: Copy One of One. Odd. But something about it compelled me to buy it.

After saying goodbye to Nancy, I went home, poured myself a glass of wine, and sat down. The book lay on my kitchen counter, almost pulsing with an unseen energy. I hesitated, staring at the cover, feeling an odd mix of excitement and fear. Then, I gathered my courage and opened it.

Chapter 1: Beasts and Dragons.

The main character was Max Knoxwell, a warrior prince on a quest to slay a monstrous creature hiding in a dark cave. The kingdom feared him, misunderstood him. They saw him as cold and cruel, while his younger brother, Prince Henry, was adored and favored as the kingdom's future king. But Max wasn't the villain they believed him to be. He fought for his people, for his family, for a land that didn't love him back.

As I read, I felt something shift in me. I found myself falling in love with Max—not in a silly way, but deeply. He was noble, broken, and utterly captivating.

It was late at night when I reached the part where Max faced a dragon. The battle was brutal. I was terrified for him. It looked like he wouldn't survive.

"No!" I screamed, unable to help myself.

Relief flooded me when he finally slew the beast. But then—I heard it.

A voice in my head. "Who is this?"

I froze. I must be exhausted. Maybe the wine was getting to me. I shook it off, but when I looked back at the page, my breath caught in my throat.

Max heard a voice in his head: "No." He frowned and asked, "Who is this?"

My heart pounded. That was exactly what I had screamed. Was this some kind of trick?

Curious, trembling, I whispered aloud, "I'm Layla."

And then—again, clear as day in my mind—I heard: "Layla? How is it I can hear you in my head?"

Terrified, I slammed the book shut. But curiosity burned stronger than fear. I opened it again and spoke aloud: "I don't know."

The words I had just said appeared on the page.

This couldn't be real. Had I gone mad? Was I dreaming?

"Who are you?" the voice asked again.

"I'm Layla. And who are you?"

A pause. Then: "I'm Max."

I hesitated, then asked, "Like... the character in the book?"

"What book?"

I stared blankly ahead. This was insane. But I kept going.

"The book I'm reading. It's called Pain & Thorns."

"I don't know what book you're talking about. And I don't know how you're in my head—but if you're a witch, you'll regret messing with me."

I laughed nervously. "I'm not a witch. I don't know why we can hear each other, but... Max, you're a character in a book. I know that sounds crazy, but it's true."

A long silence followed. Then he finally said, "Even if I believed that—which I don't—do you have any proof?"

I told him everything I'd read: his battles, his family, his pain. I waited, heart pounding.

Then, finally: "So I'm a character in some shitty cliché book. Great. As if my life couldn't get any worse."

I couldn't help but laugh. That's when he said: "Do you find this funny, love? Because I don't."

I blushed at the sudden nickname. "N-no."

"I didn't mean to scare you, love. I was just messing with you."

His voice did something to me. It made my chest ache in a way I didn't understand—or didn't want to.

He asked, "So... I don't suppose you'll tell me how this story ends?"

"I honestly don't know. I just picked up the book today. Something about it felt... right."

"Does it say who wrote it?"

I checked the cover. "Just initials—M.M. I tried searching online, but... nothing. It's like the book doesn't exist."

"M.M?" he echoed. "No idea who that could be."

Suddenly, my phone alarm went off. It was time for bed.

"I need to go," I said quietly. "Will I... be able to hear you tomorrow?"

He answered with uncertainty. "I don't know."

I closed the book, torn between relief and longing. As I drifted to sleep, I wondered if he'd still be there in the morning