Dear Diary, I’m not sure what’s happening. One moment I was going to celebrate my graduation with my friends, and the next moment I’m here. It had finally come, the day I graduated and got to begin my real life. I had worked so hard to finish my accounting degree and was looking forward to having my efforts pay out. My friends and I were meeting up for dinner to celebrate. I was running late and the walk sign was on, so I didn’t even think to look as I crossed the road. That was not the smartest decision of my life, and appears to have been the last decision of my life. There was pain, and then there wasn’t.
The next thing I knew I woke up here. The memory was fresh in my mind and I looked for the wounds as soon as I woke up, but there weren’t any. My skin looked normal. No cuts, no blood, and my skin even looked smoother and more flawless than it had been before. As weird as that was, that wasn’t even the weirdest thing, but hold that thought because we're not to the weirdest thing yet. There were no wounds and I also wasn’t in the hospital. Instead I was in an enormous and lavish bedroom! The room was huge, the bed was huge, and everything was pink. The room fit a gigantic four poster bed, adorned with pink curtains, a couch (sitting across from a very cozy fireplace), a writing desk, and a vanity. The walls of the room where a soft pink, and the furniture was mostly a darker shade of pink.
The bed was soft, like a cloud, and felt like wrestling a cloud probably would to move off of it. It tried to hold me. My body seemed to sink into it further with every movement, like it was trying to eat me and didn’t want to let go. Finally, I struggled to the edge before tumbling onto the floor to escape. After collecting myself, I moved across the room toward the vanity mirror. I needed to actually see myself to make sure that I was alright. Although I was moving surprisingly well for someone who’d recently been hit by a vehicle. There was no pain as I walked. I could remember it, but I didn’t actually feel it.
When I went to inspect myself in the vanity, to make sure that there really weren’t any wounds, I was surprised to see a stranger’s face staring back at me! Here I was expecting to see myself, Sarah Smith, dark brown hair, brown eyes, plain looking heart shaped face with a sprinkling of freckles. Instead there was a beautiful lady, long blonde locks falling with a gentle curl, thin ovular face, with piercing blue eyes drilling into me. I jumped back in surprise upon finding that and looked behind me, but no one else was in the room. That really was me!
I still can’t believe it. I tested I was really awake by pinching myself (and it did hurt!), but I’m still convinced I’ll wake up tomorrow as Sarah again. I wouldn’t mind… but I also don’t mind this either. It’s actually quite exciting. You won’t believe who I am! Just wait until I tell you; you won’t believe it. But let me keep going and I’ll get to that.
While I was looking at my new face in the mirror a maid came in because she had heard me when I’d tumbled off the bed. She told me I needed to rest because I’d been sick. I tried to ask her why I was here and what was going on. At first she just repeated that I’d been sick and tried to direct me back to bed. But that wasn’t a real answer so I asked her what had happened to my face and how I’d survived the car accident. This made her look at me like I was crazy. And I guess that was crazy talk to her, because they don’t have cars here. After she felt my forehead she declared that I didn’t have a fever. When I asked her who I was she looked really scared and asked me if I didn’t remember. Her face turned white when I told her I didn’t. I was supposed to be the sick one, but she looked like she wasn’t feeling well. And then (this is the really crazy part) she told me that I’m Millana Hapsum!
Oh, Diary, can you believe it? You know how much I love Millana (or at least my old diary did, I had to ask for a new one since I’m here). I’m quite surprised I didn’t recognize it myself. I guess I was still in shock after the accident. Of course this face is Millana’s. The blonde hair, the icy glare, it’s exactly everything that the book described.
I’m not sure how I ended up in The Lady’s Heart Can’t Run Away, and especially as Millana, but I plan to love every second of it. I don’t remember much about the actual story, but I do remember Millana. Going to tea parties, dress shopping, masquerades, right on the edge of drama but living her best life avoiding all of it. She always seemed to be leaving a room or entering just before or right after the conflict happened. Her life seemed perfect. No mess for her, just enjoying life and leaving before things got real, no hardship in sight. Although her name occurred a few times, there was only one line she gave through the whole book. The heroine had just run out of a ballroom and past Millana who was resting in the hallway. She was running because… well I don’t remember but that’s not important. The heroine runs past and shortly after the male lead is pursuing her. He pauses outside the room and looks to Millana to ask where the heroine went. Millana tells him, “She ran that way, Your Grace, toward the rose garden.” After that the male lead leaves and she never speaks to the main characters again.
When the time comes I plan to deliver my one line perfectly. Avoiding drama just like Millana did, I’ll play the part flawlessly. Then I’ll live my own happily ever after. The story didn’t go into detail on Millana, but her life sounded quite pleasant. I always admired how she existed without entangling herself in the story. It was like her own little world was separate and cozy and only overlapped briefly.
I only read The Lady’s Heart Can’t Run Away because my friend made me. I don’t like dramas. When I pick a story I don’t want conflict. I like to read comfort stories about people just living life. Something cozy and inviting, what other people might consider slow. I only remember this story because I’d thought that Millana’s life must be lovely. All the main characters were running around stirring up drama, and Millana was skirting by it, living the life of my dreams. When my friend tried to discuss the story with me, she was always disappointed that we didn’t want to discuss the same parts, and that I didn’t care about the main characters and romance. Eventually I discussed what I enjoyed about it with my diary and tried to nod along and agree with my friend when she would express what she enjoyed about the story.
Being Millana instead of myself doesn’t seem too bad. It’s not like I wanted grand things anyway. Accounting was nice enough, but I just wanted to get paid well and enjoy my life. That’s always been my goal. Keep my head down, enjoy spending time with friends, and have time for my hobbies. I guess my hobbies might look different here (I don’t think that noble ladies are supposed to bake and there’s no internet to peruse and discuss fan theories of my latest obsessions), but I can be perfectly happy learning new hobbies. Maybe I’ll take up embroidery and learn to ride horses or fence. Perhaps I’ll replace attending movie theaters with attending the opera.
Anyway, the maid stayed long enough to make sure I got back into bed and to bring me a diary when I asked for it. It was empty, so I’m not sure if it’s new or if Millana didn’t write about her life. Hopefully it won’t seem too weird when I start writing regularly. Although the maid already knew that something was wrong with me, or with Millana. I told her as much. After our discussion, and after she’d made sure I was settled, she rushed out of the room, frowning and mumbling to herself. Probably she’s headed to inform someone about me. There’s nothing I can do at this point except just wait to see what becomes of me, and to write my strange story and my worries out here. I’ll keep you updated, Diary. We’ll both just have to wait anxiously to find out what happens next.