Page 29 of Barbi and the Villain

“Have a good rest,” she declares before she’s out of the room, the door closing with a resounding thud. It seems I did overstep my boundaries.

I gulp down as I stare at the closed doors, the disappointment I’ve been feeling for a while now finally sinking in.

For over a decade, Lady Jocelyn and Sir Damien had been couple goals for me. I’d never even entertained dating someone because my standards were too high and no real-life boy could possibly live up to them.

They had always been so in love, so devoted to one another. They had been a team—a pair of equals fighting for a common purpose.

But had any of that been real? Have I been living with an illusion all along?

Not only is Lady Jocelyn not the sweet, soft-spoken lady I thought her to be. But Sir Damien is a cheating scoundrel who doesn’t even care if his wife sees him in the act. And it wasn’t with just one woman. No, it was two. At the same time!

Disgust rolls in my stomach. I sink down on the bed, numb and utterly devastated by everything I’ve found out.

For more than half of my life, I’ve been worshipping a lie.

Tears of disappointment and frustration stab at my eyes, and I get the urge to scream my grievances at the top of my lungs. God, to think I was so happy I somehow ended up in Akkaya and so excited at the prospect of meeting my idols. Now? I just want to go home and forget all of this happened. Maybe even burn those damned books for making me entertain so many dreams only for them to be shattered in the end.

Yet more than anything… I guess I am mad at myself. I let myself buy into their story. Because my life was so damn bleak and lonely, I let myself get absorbed into their fantastical world, losing sight of what’s real and what’s not.

And now that the illusion has been destroyed…who am I?

I clench my hands into fists. Tears course down my cheeks.

If there’s no Lady Jocelyn who loves pink, who has a white Pomeranian named BonBon, and who is utterly devoted to her beloved Sir Damien, then where does that leave me?

Who the hell am I?

PomPom rushes to me, whimpering and rubbing her head against my legs.

“It’s okay, sweet girl,” I murmur, petting her on the head. “Lady Jocelyn and Sir Damien are strangers. I shouldn’t get so upset over this when they probably have no idea someone wrote a distorted account of their lives in another world.” I sigh. “But that doesn’t make this any less painful. I…” I swallow. “I just don’t know anything anymore. Oh, PomPom, I feel so lost,” I cry out.

She jumps in my lap and I hug her to my chest, rocking back and forth with her as I let my tears fall down.

A knock at the door startles me. I dry my tears and take a deep breath before opening the door. A servant comes in with clean clothes and a tray of food for both PomPom and me.

I thank her and lock the door after she leaves.

The dress is a beautiful pink—something Lady Jocelyn would wear, and by extension, me. As I stare at it laid out on the bed, I get the urge to rip it to shreds.

But as I grip the soft material in my hands, I can’t bring myself to do it.

So what if Lady Jocelyn is not who I thought she was? So what if their love story is a fraud? That doesn’t mean the characters I read about and loved don’t exist—if only in my head? So what if the real people are shitty? I’ll pretend they don’t exist and keep the fictional ones in my mind.

With a deep sigh, I head over to the shower, washing myself and PomPom. I’m not too hungry, but PomPom is, so I give her something to eat before we go to bed.

PomPom falls asleep right away. She must have been exhausted, poor baby. Unfortunately, for me sleep doesn’t come too easily. I twist and turn, but my thoughts are too loud. I feel so silly for my obsession with Lady Jocelyn and maybe a little embarrassed of myself for trying to be something I was not for so long.

I sigh in frustration.

Eyes closed, I force myself to rest. But just as my body relaxes, a sudden noise makes me aware that I’m no longer alone in my room.

“She should be out by now,” a feminine voice says—Lady Jocelyn.

My heart thuds in my chest, but I keep my eyes closed, feigning sleep.

“Do you think it’s wise to do it now? We still don’t have the last page,” she continues.

“We don’t need her alive. We just need to preserve her blood,” Sir Damien adds, annoyed.

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