Chapter 2: The Real Savannah Appears

I grinned up at him, daring him to deny it. His ears turned pink, and I felt a tiny spark of victory.

“But this was my first time wearing one and you already tore it. That was chiffon, you know. That fabric’s all over TikTok right now!”

I gave him a playful glare, hoping he’d take the hint. It was true—I’d saved up for that nightgown, scrolling through endless fashion hauls for inspiration.

Carter turned his head to avoid my gaze, his ears suspiciously red:

“Who—who said I like you wearing those?”

He mumbled the words, but his body betrayed him. I caught the ghost of a smile on his lips, and my heart fluttered.

I was too tired to keep arguing. I closed my eyes and quickly fell asleep.

Sleep pulled me under like a warm tide. For once, I let myself relax, trusting that the world could wait until morning.

After a while, Carter silently shifted so I could lean more comfortably in his arms.

He moved with care, adjusting the pillow behind my head. I felt his fingers brush my hair back from my face. Even half-asleep, I could sense the worry in his touch.

“Fine, I’ll just buy you another.”

His voice was soft, almost a whisper. I smiled into the darkness, letting the words settle over me like a promise.

With Carter gone all day at the construction site, I got bored and found a job doing bookkeeping at a local auto shop.

The shop was noisy, always smelling of motor oil and burnt coffee. I liked the routine—the clatter of tools, the hum of conversation. It made the days pass quicker.

The pay wasn’t much, but it was easy, and I got to chat with people.

Most days, I’d finish my work early and hang out by the counter, chatting with the other girls. We’d swap stories, share snacks, and complain about our bosses. Honestly, it was the closest thing I had to a social life.

When I had downtime, the other girls would come over to gossip:

“Savannah, you still with your boyfriend?”

They’d lean in, eyes wide, eager for drama. I always tried to keep things vague, but they never let up.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

I kept my answer short, hoping they’d move on. But they never did.

She gave me this regretful look. “With your looks, why stick with a guy who works construction? There’s plenty of guys with more money!”

She meant well—at least, I think she did. Still, her words stung. I forced a smile, pretending it didn’t bother me.

I shook my head. “My boyfriend’s a good guy. We’re really solid.”

I said it with more conviction than I felt. The truth was, Carter could be stubborn as a mule, but he was loyal. That had to count for something.

Except for Carter being stubborn, everything else was great.

I thought about all the little things—how he’d make me coffee just the way I liked, or fix the leaky faucet without being asked. He wasn’t perfect, but who is?

Until that evening, when I was slogging through a stack of invoices, ready to clock out.

My eyes burned from staring at the computer screen. I could practically taste freedom—just a few more receipts to go.

The shop supervisor walked in with a new girl, grinning as he introduced her:

“Let me introduce everyone—this is our new team member, Savannah.”

He said her name with a little too much enthusiasm, like he’d been waiting all day for this moment. I blinked, thinking I must’ve misheard.

“She’ll be working with us starting tomorrow.”

The room buzzed with curiosity. Everyone craned their necks to get a better look at the new girl.

I blinked, thinking I must’ve misheard. “…What’s her name?”

My voice was barely audible, my heart pounding in my chest. I glanced around, hoping someone would correct him.

“Savannah—like the city.”

She flashed a dazzling smile, her confidence effortless. There was something about her—an energy that pulled people in.

She had this magnetic energy. She quickly won everyone over.

The girls flocked to her, peppering her with questions. Even the guys found excuses to linger nearby. It was like watching a real-life version of the heroine stepping onto the stage.

The others gathered around her, welcoming her warmly.

I watched from the sidelines, feeling like an extra in my own story. The laughter and chatter seemed to swirl around her, leaving me on the outside looking in.

Looking at the enthusiastic coworkers and the unusually gentle supervisor, I finally realized—

This is the real group-pampered heroine.

The truth hit me like a truck. All the pieces fell into place—the charm, the effortless way people gravitated toward her. I suddenly felt small, invisible.

The real heroine looked at me kindly. “Hey, what’s your name?”

Her voice was warm, genuine. I wanted to hate her, but I couldn’t. She was just… nice.

I laughed awkwardly. “Haha, Savannah—like the grasslands.”

I tried to make it sound like a joke, but my voice cracked. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, waiting for the punchline.

She looked surprised. “Wow, our names are so close! What are the odds.”

She meant it, too—no hint of sarcasm. I forced a smile, wishing the floor would swallow me whole.

Yeah.

The word echoed in my head, heavy and hollow. I’d never felt more out of place.

What a coincidence.

It was almost cruel, honestly, how fate could twist the knife with something as simple as a name.

After all, until now, I always thought I was you.

I stared at her, at the way everyone leaned in when she spoke. For two years, I’d been living someone else’s story. Now, I realized I was just a stand-in.

It’s over. Totally over.

The thought settled over me like a wet blanket. I could barely focus on the rest of my shift, my mind spinning with what-ifs and could-have-beens.

I muddled through the rest of my shift and headed back to the apartment.

The walk home felt longer than usual. Every step was heavy, my feet dragging. The streetlights flickered overhead, casting long shadows on the cracked sidewalk.

I started pacing, uneasy, waiting for Carter to get home.

I couldn’t sit still. I walked circles around the living room, chewing on my thumbnail, replaying every moment of the day. My nerves were shot.

When I listened to the audiobook, I never really knew which letters made up the heroine’s name.

It sounded the same—at least, to my ears. I’d never seen it spelled out, never bothered to check. I just assumed…

I always thought I had the same name as the lead. Who would’ve thought mine just sounded similar?

The realization stung. All this time, I’d been clinging to a technicality. I felt like a fraud, a kid wearing her mom’s heels and pretending they fit.

I thought I could finally be the protagonist, but turns out I’m just some background extra.

The words echoed in my head, bitter and sharp. I’d spent so long pretending. I’d forgotten what it felt like to be real.

And what have I done these last two years?

I forced myself to face it—all the little ways I’d taken advantage of my supposed heroine status. The guilt settled in my gut, heavy as a stone.

Riding the group-pampered heroine’s glow, I made the male lead fetch me coffee and water.

I’d acted entitled, expecting Carter to cater to my every whim. I never stopped to think how it must’ve felt for him.

I even made up all these rules for him: a good morning kiss when I woke up, a goodbye kiss when I left.

Looking back, it was embarrassing. I’d treated romance like a checklist, convinced it would make him love me.

I forced him to call me all kinds of embarrassing things, like baby, wifey, sweetheart.