Chapter 1: obsessed

"I'm wrapped in layers of fabric, yet I wonder—does he see me? The thought drives me crazy, the same questions circling in my mind over and over. It lingers, it threatens, it won't let me go." 

 The thought shouldn't matter. And yet, it claws at me, whispering in my ear. If he sees me—truly sees me—what then? 

 The glow of my phone screen flickers against my skin. His face—sharp jawline, tousled dark hair, that signature smirk that always seems both inviting and untouchable—stares back at me. 

 He moves like he owns every space he steps into. Effortless. Magnetic. One moment, he's laughing with his team, dimples flashing under stage lights; the next, he's staring into the camera with that unreadable intensity, as if daring the world to figure him out. 

 Millions are watching. Millions are obsessed. And yet, as I sit here in my tiny room, phone in hand, I wonder—does he see me? 

 I could be anyone—just another name lost in the flood of comments, another faceless admirer scrolling through his world. But that's not enough. Not anymore. 

 I glance around my tiny room, the walls covered in fading posters, a vision board with half-finished dreams pinned to it. Success. I've written the word a hundred times, circled it, underlined it. But what does it even mean? Money? Fame? Being seen? 

 Or is it him seeing me? 

 The thought is ridiculous. Impossible. And yet, it burns in my chest like a challenge. 

 Maybe I don't need him to see me. Maybe I need to make myself someone worth seeing. 

 But where do I even begin? 

 Rosa what next? 

 "They say madness hides behind obsession. And maybe they're right. I'm crazy in a way that borders on brilliance—a chaos that fuels my every attempt to rise above, to be seen for something more than skin deep." 

 I stare at my reflection, the dim light casting soft shadows on my face. For a fleeting second, I imagine myself in Final Fantasy—a hero draped in mystery, standing at the edge of a journey far bigger than herself. But this isn't a game. There's no destined path, no guaranteed win. 

 I once read a book where he said that being in the right place at the right time means nothing—unless you are the right person. The words press against my ribs like a challenge. 

 What if I could be the right person? What if I could shape myself into someone who belongs in his world, someone he has to notice? 

 A spark ignites in my chest. I don't need to wait for fate to hand me a moment—I'll create one. 

 I push away from the mirror, heart pounding. The posters, the vision board, the word success scrawled over and over—they've been staring at me for too long. 

 It's time to stop watching from the shadows. 

 It's time to become someone worth seeing.

 I mean, that's my reality right.