The Writer

Shalom stared at the rejection email on her screen, the words blurring as her vision filled with unshed tears. She didn't need to read it again, she knew the drill by heart.

"We regret to inform you that your submission does not meet our current needs."

Her throat tightened, and her chest ached with the familiar weight of disappointment.

She'd been rejected so many times that it shouldn't hurt anymore, but it did. It always did.

Her eyes flickered to the clock on the corner of her laptop. Midnight. Another sleepless night spent chasing a dream that seemed farther away with every passing day.

Shalom closed the email tab and opened the Wubnovel app on autopilot. She had a bad habit of torturing herself by looking at the success of others. It was like pressing on a bruise to feel the pain more acutely.

The homepage greeted her with its usual barrage of top-ranking novels. Each one gleamed with banners, "Editor's Choice" tags, and glowing reviews. Titles like Shadow Wave, Marry Potter, and Slayer Beast dominated the charts, their authors basking in the adoration of massive fandoms.

Thousands of power stones. Tens of thousands of comments. Fan art. The stuff of dreams.

And then there was her page.

She clicked on her profile, wincing at the stark difference. No fan art. No badges. No avalanche of comments. Just her lone novel sitting there like a forgotten relic, buried under the weight of better stories.

She scrolled down to the stats. Her breath caught in her throat. No new readers. No comments. No power stones.

It wasn't the first time. Gudnovel, Weganovel, Wuttpad, Wobtoon, Rudish, she had tried them all, submitted to them all, and been rejected by them all. At this point, it felt like some cosmic joke.

She was a loser.

Shalom ran a hand through her hair, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

She had poured her soul into her stories, sacrificed sleep, and ignored social invitations just to create worlds she believed in. And for what? To be met with indifference?

The anger dissipated as quickly as it came, replaced by the familiar ache of self-doubt. Maybe she wasn't good enough. Maybe she didn't have what it took to be a writer.

Her gaze flickered to the "delete account" button on her Webnuvel profile. She hovered over it, her finger trembling. Maybe it was time to stop. To quit loving her work so much when no one else seemed to care.

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as the thought settled. Writing had been her lifeline for so long, her escape from a reality that felt too small, too dull. Letting it go felt like losing a part of herself.

But what was the point of clinging to a dream that only brought her pain?

Her day job was dull, yes, but at least it was stable. Reliable. Writing had been her one act of rebellion against the monotony of life, but maybe it was time to accept the truth. She wasn't meant to be a writer.

Her finger pressed harder on the mouse, one click away from erasing it all.

But something stopped her.

A notification popped up in the corner of her screen.

At first, she thought it was spam, a glitch, maybe. But curiosity got the better of her, and she clicked on it.

It was a new activity on her Wubnovel account.

Her heart sank. Probably another bot comment advertising a sketchy editing service. Those seemed to be the only interactions her work attracted these days.

She clicked on the notification, her expectations low.

But it wasn't spam.

Her eyes widened as she saw the words:

"You've received 1 Power Stone."

Shalom stared at the screen. She clicked on the notification again, and it brought her to her novel's page. There, beneath the empty comments section, was a single review.

Her breath hitched as she read it.

"Your work is beautiful."

The words were simple. Just three little words. But they hit her with the force of a tidal wave.

She read them again, and then a third time, as if trying to absorb their meaning.

A warmth spread through her chest, softening the hard edges of her despair. Someone had read her story. Someone had liked it.

Her logical brain tried to temper her excitement. It was just one review, one power stone. Compared to the thousands of accolades others had, it was nothing.

But to her, it was everything.

For the first time in weeks, a small smile tugged at her lips. She didn't know who this reader was, but they had given her something she hadn't felt in a long time: hope.

Shalom leaned back in her chair, her heart lighter than it had been in days. It wasn't a tidal wave of success. It wasn't fame or fortune. But it was a start.

She glanced at the clock again. 12:15 AM.

Maybe she wouldn't quit just yet.

She closed her laptop and crawled into bed, the words of the review echoing

in her mind like a lullaby.

"Your work is beautiful."

And that was how it began.