I opened the fridge and stared into the fluorescent-lit void. A bottle of mustard. Expired soy milk. And one half-eaten burrito, folded in on itself like a guilty secret. I pulled it out anyway, already regretting it.
Another Friday night. Just me, my sad leftovers, and the echo of conversations I wasn't part of. The apartment was so quiet, I could hear the tick of the clock on the wall, each second a little accusation.
I glanced at my phone. No new messages. No pings. No calls.
I was getting used to that.
But it still hurt.
They were all gone now, off in some new world together. Elunaria. The latest VRMMORPG sensation. My group chat had exploded with screenshots, game invites, and guild jokes a week ago. Everyone had a cool username. Everyone had picked a race, a class, a shiny armor skin.
And then… silence.
They didn't even ask if I wanted to join.
Maybe they assumed I wouldn't. Maybe they thought I wouldn't care. Maybe they were right.
I'm not a gamer. Not even close. The last game I played was a sneaky little puzzle app on my phone in high school, something to kill time during bus rides. I never joined raids. I never spent hours grinding for gear. I never bought a headset or knew what WASD meant.
And honestly? I don't really get gamers. What's the point of escaping into a fake world? Reality has so much to give... Sunlight, city noise, the smell of coffee shops, spontaneous laughter, conversations that don't involve avatars or health bars. Right?
Or so I used to think.
Because lately, reality just felt like an empty room. A fridge with nothing in it. A couch I sat on alone. A phone that didn't light up unless it was a bank notification or a weather alert.
I guess I just assumed that if I stuck to real life, my friends would stick to me.
Especially Anna. We'd been close since sophomore year. She used to message me just to share dumb memes, or vent about deadlines, or ask if I wanted to grab overpriced coffee and people-watch. But then her new boyfriend bought her a VR helmet and… that was that. I watched her drift away in real time, her name sliding up my chat list like it was ascending to another plane.
I hope the two of them are having fun slaying virtual dragons or whatever.
"Enjoy your meal, Mia," I muttered, poking at the burrito.
It wasn't warm. It wasn't good. The tortilla was stiff, the filling sour. I chewed once, twice, then grimaced.
I tossed it into the bin.
My older brother used to say I was the typical girl, moaning that I was left behind but never actually reaching out. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was always waiting for someone else to notice me drifting. Waiting to be pulled back in.
Why do I always have to be the one who reaches first? No, I will play this stupid game... but I will not reach to anybody, at least not now.
I wandered back to my room, still chewing over the same bitter thought. My socks caught on the edge of the rug as I passed the bed, and I stumbled a little, catching myself on the dresser. My reflection blinked at me from the mirror across the room.
Long black hair in a messy braid. Tired eyes that had forgotten what a full night's sleep felt like. Curves buried under an old oversized shirt that read Coffee Is My God Now in cracked lettering.
I stared at the girl in the reflection.
She looked like she'd been waiting a long time for someone to notice she was still here.
And maybe… maybe she was done waiting.
I stood up straighter. Walked over to the shelf by the window. Reached behind a stack of half-read books and dusty candles until my fingers found the edge of the box.
A plain cardboard package. Wrapped in black tape like it was hiding a secret. My secret.
Why am I doing this?
I set the box on my desk and peeled the tape slowly, watching it stretch and curl with a faint crackle.
I bought it. That much was true. A VR rig. The most decent model I could find. I don't even remember how I scraped the money together. Sold some old textbooks I told myself I'd reread. Skipped more than a few meals. Told myself it was a treat, a present, an experiment.
But really, it was a dare.
A dare to myself.
Because I'm a bit stubborn, you know? When the world says you don't belong, I tend to push back. Even if I have no idea what I'm getting into.
Even if I don't know how to play. Even if no one's expecting me to show up.
Especially then.
So I unboxed the headset. Plugged it in. Watched the setup screen boot up with a soft chime and glowing logo.
No going back now.
I wasn't doing this to prove anything.
Except maybe… that I could.