Kana refreshed her Twibbler page again and again, almost afraid to blink in case everything disappeared.
But her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her.
Her poem had truly gone viral overnight.
A surge of joy rushed through her, lighting up every corner of her soul. She wanted to scream, to leap out of bed and celebrate—but she didn’t. Partly because of her condition, and partly because she didn’t want to wake the children in the nearby wards who were still asleep. Instead, she giggled softly, kicking her legs under the covers and clutching her phone like it was a treasure.
The screen shimmered with numbers that hadn't been there yesterday.
350 comments.
Kana's jaw dropped as she stared at it, wide-eyed.
The algorithm had truly worked in her favor.
She tapped on the post and began scrolling through the replies, heart pounding with anticipation. What she saw made her eyes well up with happiness. The comments weren’t just positive—they were full of admiration, warmth, and support. People had taken the time to share how much her poem meant to them. Some had even written their own verses in response. Others left hearts, flower emojis, and encouragements asking her to post more.
It felt like her words had become a bridge, connecting her lonely little world inside a hospital room to people out there—real people who cared.
She wiped her eyes and whispered to herself,
Kana: “I’ll show this to them… to Dr. Kennedy and Miss Jane. I have to thank them properly. They were the ones who told me to start this page in the first place.”
But the surprises weren’t over.
Because of her viral post, her older ones had started gaining attention too—posts she had once feared would disappear into the void, unread and unloved.
Before her viral post:
Twibbler Account: Lonelygirl4556
Followers: 2
> “Hey everyone. My name is Kana Young and for the past four years I’ve been stuck in this hospital because I’m really really sick. Anyways, it was getting lonely here so I decided to create this account to connect with you all. I hope you come to enjoy my presence here!!”
0 likes, 0 reposts, 0 comments
That message had felt like tossing a note in a bottle out into the ocean—never expecting it to be found.
But now?
After her viral post:
Twibbler Account: Lonelygirl4556
Followers: 457
> “Hey everyone. My name is Kana Young and for the past four years I’ve been stuck in this hospital because I’m really really sick. Anyways, it was getting lonely here so I decided to create this account to connect with you all. I hope you come to enjoy my presence here!!”
230 likes, 10 reposts, 8 comments
Kana covered her mouth with her hands and let out a tiny, delighted squeal. She felt lighter than she had in ages, like a cloud had been lifted from over her head. This was more than just numbers on a screen—this was proof that her voice mattered. That her existence reached beyond these four white walls.
Her fingers itched to write again. The thoughts and emotions inside her wanted to be shaped into something beautiful—something that could once again make someone feel seen.
Kana: Who knows? Maybe I’ll even become a Twibbler celebrity someday…
She laughed, shaking her head.
Kana: Nah… that’s just wishful thinking.
Just then, her phone buzzed in her hands. A notification flashed across the top of the screen.
A message?
That was new.
Despite her post going viral, she hadn’t received any private messages yet. Her heart fluttered. She tapped the notification and opened the app.
The message was from a user named: Gamerboy115.
Kana blinked, intrigued, then opened the chat.
> Gamerboy115:
“I really liked your poem. It resonated with me because it’s exactly what I’m going through in my own life. I’m just glad that someone out there is able to understand what I’m really going through. Thanks again for writing that poem. Hope to see more of them…”
Kana stared at the message, her breath catching in her throat. Something about it struck deep within her. She read it once. Then again. Then a third time. Her chest tightened as emotion swelled in her heart.
Her eyes filled with tears.
Kana: So I DID reach someone…
She sniffled, gently dabbing her face with the sleeve of her hospital gown. Her fingers trembled as she brought them to the keyboard to type a reply.
But just as she began, a soft creak broke the silence.
The door to her room opened.
A nurse stepped in, clipboard in hand.
Nurse: Come on, Kiddo. It’s time for your daily check-up.
Kana blinked and quickly set her phone aside. With newfound energy, she threw off her blankets and slid her feet into her floppies. A bright, genuine smile beamed across her face.
The nurse raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard by the sudden burst of joy.
Kana: Hey, where’s Miss Jane?
Nurse: She asked me to fill in for her today. She went home last night to take care of her mother.
Kana: l see…
The nurse tilted her head, a bit puzzled as she looked Kana up and down. It wasn’t every day the girl radiated this much joy.
Nurse: You seem to be in a really good mood today. Did something happen?
Kana’s thoughts drifted back to the message, to the outpouring of support, to the feeling of not being alone anymore.
She turned to the nurse with that same smile, brighter than morning light through the hospital window.
Kana: Yes… something wonderful happened.
********
24 Hours Earlier…
The sharp, relentless blaring of an alarm clock shattered the silence of the small bedroom, echoing like a siren across the cluttered space. Morning had arrived—unwelcome, as usual.
After several minutes of its stubborn screeching, a sluggish hand emerged from under the covers, blindly slapping the snooze button. A groggy boy with messy brown hair finally sat up, rubbing his eyes as he adjusted to the sunlight spilling through the cracked blinds.
His gaze drifted groggily to the wall clock mounted across the room.
8:00 AM.
His eyes widened slightly. School starts at 8:30.
With a sigh born from exhaustion and resignation, the boy—John Wellman—pushed himself out of bed. His limbs felt heavy, as if weighed down by more than just sleep. He shuffled toward the bathroom to shower and get ready for another day he was already tired of.
****
A few minutes later, he emerged from his room, freshly dressed in his uniform and dragging his feet like a man heading to war. The familiar scent of scrambled eggs and toast greeted him as he stepped into the small living room and adjoining kitchen.
His breakfast was already plated on the table. Eggs, toast, and what looked like instant sausages. Across the room, his mother stood at the sink, scrubbing a greasy pan, her back turned to him.
She was in her early thirties, with long, jet-black hair that looked nothing like his. The difference in their appearance had always bothered him, though he rarely talked about it. It reminded him too much of things he’d rather forget.
His eyes scanned the apartment—and he immediately noticed the mess. Clothes were flung over the couch and floor, some of them clearly not hers. Bottles littered the table. The faint smell of cheap perfume and cigarette smoke lingered in the air like a ghost that hadn’t quite left yet.
He glanced down. Beneath his slipper, a crushed condom wrapper peeked out.
And just like that, he knew.
She'd done it again.
He clenched his jaw, biting down the rising anger as he turned his eyes back to his mother. She still hadn’t noticed him.
Then, as if feeling his stare, she finally turned.
Mom: Oh—John. You're up. I made you breakfast. Hurry or you'll be late for school.
Her tone was casual, almost cheerful, as if nothing was out of place. As if he hadn’t just stepped on a bitter reminder of last night.
His expression twisted in disgust. She didn’t even see it. Or maybe she chose not to.
John: Hey… did you do it again last night?
She blinked, the question catching her off guard.
Mom: Did what? What are you talking about?
John (voice rising slightly): I'm not a kid, Mom. You know exactly what I’m talking about.
She turned back to the sink, her shoulders tightening. Silence hung between them. Water dripped from the faucet. Dishes clinked.
Then, quietly—
Mom: So what if I did? That’s the only way I can provide for you.
His chest tightened. The words hit like a slap.
John: Why would you say that? You’re doing this for me? That’s the kind of excuse you’re giving now?
Mom (snapping): Look, John, I’m not in the mood for this. Either eat your breakfast or leave. I have enough on my plate already.
He stared at her—no longer angry, just disappointed.
John: And I thought today would be the day you actually heard me.
Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he turned without another word and walked out of the apartment, leaving the untouched plate of breakfast on the table.
He wasn’t hungry anymore.
****
The door creaked shut behind him as he stepped into the apartment building’s corridor. It was an aging structure, with cracks on the walls and railings that creaked under pressure. The faint smell of mold lingered in the air.
He pulled out his phone and checked the time.
8:45 AM.
John: (groaning) Great. The teachers are really gonna love this.
He shoved his hand back into his pocket, searching.
John: Now where did I keep that thing?... Ah—here it is.
He pulled out a tangled mess of earphone wires, frowning at them like they were his personal enemy. After several seconds of untangling, he finally plugged them into his phone and stuck them into his ears.
John: Maybe it’s finally time I upgraded to pods. I’ve got enough saved up. How much were they again…?
He didn’t even bother rushing. There was no point.
Descending the old staircase, he slipped his hands into his jacket pockets and began his walk to school. The streets bustled with commuters and kids on bikes, but to John it all felt distant.
The weight of that morning still clung to him. But it wasn’t anything new.
It was just another day in the life of John Wellman.
And he wasn't expecting anything good from it.
Not yet, at least.
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