The soft hum of morning filled Sarah’s room—the distant sound of traffic outside, the muffled voices of neighbors in the hallway, the occasional chirp from her phone as notifications trickled in.

  She stretched her arms above her head, yawning as she reached for her leather-bound journal, flipping open to the page from last night. Her daily routine was sacred—every morning, she logged her progress, setting clear goals to keep herself grounded.

  Her eyes skimmed over yesterday’s entries:

  ? Created Another Life character

  ? Met a mentor with a coding group

  ? Built a product in the metaverse

  Then her gaze froze on the last line.

  I met a boy online and I think I like him.

  Sarah’s fingers hovered over the words, tracing them lightly with the tip of her pen.

  Did I actually write that?

  The thought sent a wave of warmth through her, followed almost immediately by an exasperated sigh.

  Oh my god. I am not that girl. I do not get giddy over a guy I just met in a game.

  But no matter how hard she tried to shove the thought away, Mack’s image flashed through her mind—his confident smirk, his easy charm, the way he seemed to just get her. And damn it, he was good at what he did.

  She shook her head, flipping forward to a fresh page in her journal.

  New day. Focus.

  She neatly wrote out her tasks for the day:

  ? Get school ID

  ? Audit LUA scripting class

  ? Check if Financial Aid covers adding LUA class

  ? Grocery shopping

  ? Get quarters or PayCard for laundry

  And then, almost as an afterthought:

  ? Jump back into the game tonight and get to programming. Maybe I will also see Mack…

  She paused mid-sentence. Then underlined it. Then rolled her eyes at herself and slammed the journal shut.

  What is wrong with me today?

  Sarah stood from her desk, rolled out her yoga mat, and settled into her morning flow—a habit she picked up during finals last semester to calm her nerves. She started with cat-cow stretches, easing the stiffness from sleep, then moved into downward dog, focusing on her breath.

  Inhale… Exhale… Focus…

  Except—her mind had other plans. Because somehow, it wandered right back to Mack. Specifically, his stupidly perfect avatar. She shifted into warrior pose, trying to shake the thought away, but there he was again—standing next to her in Another Life, hands in his pockets, grinning at her like he knew something she didn’t.

  Did he put a spell on me or something?!

  She wobbled slightly, nearly losing her balance.

  What is going on with me today?

  She exhaled sharply, shifting into tree pose, willing her body to stabilize and her brain to chill the hell out.

  He’s just a guy. A virtual guy. A mentor. A coder. That’s all.

  And yet, the warmth curling in her stomach told a different story.

  Damn it, Sarah. Focus.

  With a final deep breath, she moved into seated meditation, pressing her palms together. For several long moments, she let herself sink into the silence. The steady rhythm of her breath. The hum of the world outside. The grounding sensation of simply being in her body. By the time she opened her eyes, she felt more in control. With a satisfied sigh, she stood, stretching her arms overhead.

  "Alright, back to reality."

  She made her way to the bathroom, turning on the shower and letting the steam fill the space. Pausing in front of the mirror, she caught her reflection—a slightly flushed face, wild morning hair, and hazel eyes still holding traces of sleep. She tilted her head slightly.

  What am I doing?

  Even though her hair was a mess, even though she had zero makeup on, she saw something in her own expression she hadn’t seen in a while. Excitement. Anticipation. And maybe—just maybe—hope.

  God, I need to get out of my head.

  She pulled her scrunchie from her hair, letting it fall loosely over her shoulders, then turned and closed the bathroom door behind her. By the time Sarah was dressed and out the door, she was already running behind.

  Her plan had been to arrive early to the LUA scripting class, but thanks to her existential crisis over Mack, she was now praying for green lights and zero traffic. Sliding into her beat-up blue Honda Civic, she tossed her backpack into the passenger seat and tapped her phone screen to connect Bluetooth.

  As the car rumbled to life, her phone automatically dialed Natalie, her best friend since high school. It rang twice before an exhausted but familiar voice answered.

  “Hey, you! You actually called me at a reasonable hour.”

  In the background, Sarah could hear chaos—the sound of children laughing, screaming, and what sounded suspiciously like a tiny person throwing something against the wall. Sarah smirked.

  “Let me guess. Your living room is a war zone?”

  Natalie sighed dramatically.

  “More like a battlefield. Danny just dumped an entire bag of Goldfish crackers onto the floor, and Emma is yelling about it like it’s a national emergency.”

  Sarah chuckled as she pulled out onto the crowded LA streets, already feeling the tension of the morning traffic.

  “Man, I don’t know how you do it.”

  “Lots of coffee and the ability to mentally block out most of the screaming.”

  Sarah snorted.

  “I need to learn that skill.”

  She was about to say something else when her phone buzzed with an email notification. A brief glance at her dashboard screen made her stomach tighten. Another job rejection. She clenched the steering wheel, trying not to let frustration take over. Natalie must have noticed the silence because her voice softened.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Sarah exhaled through her nose.

  “Just another ‘We regret to inform you…’ email.”

  “Ugh. Seriously? That’s, what, the third one this month?”

  “Fourth,” Sarah muttered.

  Her grip on the wheel tightened as she switched lanes.

  “It’s like no one wants to hire a female game programmer unless I have ten years of experience, and even then, I’d probably get paid less than some guy fresh out of college.”

  “You knew this industry was tough,” Natalie said gently. “You’re walking into a male-dominated field, but that doesn’t mean you don’t belong there.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Sarah sighed.

  “I know. I just thought… by now, I’d at least have a foot in the door somewhere.”

  The hum of traffic filled the silence between them. Natalie’s voice was firm but encouraging when she spoke again.

  “Listen to me, Sarah. Plenty of women have broken into the industry. You’re gonna be one of them. You’ve already got more drive than half the guys I know. You just have to keep pushing.”

  Sarah didn’t respond right away, instead watching the clock on her dashboard tick forward.

  8:37 AM.

  She grimaced.

  I should already be on campus.

  Natalie sighed.

  “Look, I get it. The world sucks. But you’re talented, you’re smart, and you have something most people don’t—actual vision. You just need one break, and when you get it, I guarantee you’ll blow them all away.”

  Sarah couldn’t help but smile at that.

  “You always know what to say.”

  “That’s because I spend my days convincing toddlers that naps are a good idea.”

  Sarah laughed, feeling some of her frustration ease away.

  “I wish breaking into the gaming industry was as easy as convincing a toddler to sleep.”

  “Oh, please. That’s impossible. This? This is doable.”

  Sarah was about to respond, but just then, brake lights flashed ahead. A sharp screech of tires filled the air as two cars collided at an intersection a few streets up.

  Shit.

  She slammed her foot on the brakes, her car jerking slightly as traffic slowed to a crawl. Her dashboard screen flashed a red warning, indicating the upcoming delay. Sarah groaned, quickly checking the time again.

  8:41 AM.

  She barely had ten minutes to park and make it to class.

  No way I’m sitting in this mess.

  Glancing at the navigation screen, she spotted a detour a few blocks to the right.

  Without hesitation, she flipped her blinker on and turned onto a side street, smoothly avoiding the congested lanes ahead.

  “Umm… Ahh… Natalie?” she muttered, suddenly realizing she had almost forgotten her name in the panic.

  “Yeah?”

  “I gotta go—I’m running late.”

  “Typical,” Natalie teased.

  “I’ll call you tonight?”

  “Sure. Just keep your head up. I believe in you.”

  Sarah smiled.

  “Thanks, Nat.”

  “Now go before you get another reason to be late.”

  Sarah hung up, gripping the wheel as she sped up through the side streets, dodging stop signs like a pro. By the time she reached campus and found a parking spot, she had exactly three minutes to get to class.

  Crap.

  She yanked her keys from the ignition, grabbed her coffee and backpack, and booked it across campus, weaving through students like a woman on a mission. Her thoughts were a whirlwind as she rushed inside. The job rejections. The industry’s frustrating bias. The way Natalie always believed in her, even when she doubted herself.

  And—of course—the nagging thought that tonight, she might run into Mack again.

  Maybe Mack won’t even be online.

  Maybe I won’t even run into him.

  Maybe I’m overthinking this.

  And yet, despite all the maybes, one thought stood out loud and clear.

  I hope I see him again.

  She pushed open the classroom door, slipping inside just as the professor walked up to the front.

  The moment Sarah stepped into the classroom, she knew she was in trouble. Not because she was late—though she definitely was. Not because the professor had already started moving toward the front of the room—though he definitely had.

  But because the second she walked in, the entire class turned to look at her. A bead of nervous energy trickled down her spine. She hated being the center of attention in real life. Online, she had no problem navigating new social spaces. There, she had control.

  Professor Jansen, a middle-aged man with a graying beard and wire-rimmed glasses, adjusted the tablet in his hand and tilted his head.

  “And you are?”

  Sarah swallowed, gripping her notebook a little tighter.

  “Uh… Sarah Daniger.”

  Jansen raised an eyebrow.

  “Actually, why don’t you come up here and introduce yourself properly?”

  Sarah froze.

  Oh no.

  She could feel the weight of dozens of eyes on her, and for a split second, she contemplated bolting. But no—she had worked too damn hard to let a little embarrassment make her look like an idiot.

  With a deep breath, she walked to the front of the room, feeling every step like it echoed tenfold. Turning to face the class, she forced a small smile and tried to ignore the way her pulse pounded in her ears.

  “Hi, I’m Sarah Daniger.”

  Her voice sounded normal enough—good. Maybe she could get through this quickly.

  “I chose this class because I’m interested in scripting, especially in game development.”

  That was true. Short, simple, direct.

  “What I hope to get out of this class is a better understanding of LUA and scripting for virtual environments.”

  Also true. Almost there. Then came the final question.

  “And something interesting about yourself?”

  She blinked.

  Crap.

  Sarah had not prepared for that part. Her mind went completely blank, scrambling for anything remotely "interesting" that wouldn't make her sound boring. Then, before she could stop herself, she blurted out:

  “I have a coding mentor for gaming that goes by the name Skatz.”

  A few students reacted immediately. Some looked at her with mild amusement, while others didn’t react at all—clearly unfamiliar with the name. But one student, sitting near the middle row, stiffened slightly.

  Steve McCall wasn’t paying much attention when she first walked in. He had been focused on his notes, mind already deep in contest strategy, making sure he understood every possible advantage before entering Another Life’s next big coding competition. But then—she spoke.

  I have a coding mentor for gaming that goes by the name Skatz.

  Steve's pen paused mid-stroke. For some reason, the words triggered something in his mind, but he couldn’t quite place it. He glanced up at the girl in front of the class—Sarah Daniger.

  Is she…? No, that wouldn’t make sense.

  She looked familiar, but not from school. Something about the way she held herself—a mix of confidence and uncertainty, like she was stepping into a new world and wasn’t sure if she belonged yet.

  Where have I seen that before?

  Then, just as quickly as the thought came, he pushed it away.

  You’re here to win a contest, not look at girls.

  He turned his attention back to his notes. Sarah exhaled in relief when the professor finally nodded.

  “Thank you for sharing. Please be on time next week.”

  She ducked her head, quickly walking back to an open seat near the middle row, grateful to be out of the spotlight. As she sat down and pulled out her notebook, Professor Jansen cleared his throat and began the lecture.

  “Alright, today we’re covering the fundamentals of LUA scripting in a real-time virtual environment.”

  Sarah’s nerves faded as she flipped open her notebook. This? This she could handle.

  “LUA is a lightweight, powerful scripting language primarily used for embedded programming.”

  The professor gestured to the screen behind him, where lines of LUA code appeared.

  “One of the key functions we’ll be working with is event-driven programming. Unlike compiled languages, LUA is interpreted, making it a great fit for live environments like metaverse simulations, game physics, and AI behaviors.”

  Sarah scribbled notes furiously.

  This is exactly what I need for scripting in Another Life.

  As the lecture progressed, Sarah was completely absorbed, writing down every concept the professor mentioned. But she failed to notice that—just a few seats away—Steve McCall glanced at her one more time. She was clearly smart, focused on every word of the lecture.

  Definitely a coder.

  There was something familiar about her. But the thought faded as Jansen moved forward in the lesson. For now, she was just another student in class. And he had bigger things to worry about.

  “Let’s start with a simple function.”

  Professor Jansen typed a basic LUA script on the board.

  lua

  CopyEdit

  function greetUser(name)

  print("Welcome, " .. name .. "!")

  end

  greetUser("Sarah")

  The output appeared on the projector:

  Welcome, Sarah!

  The class chuckled, and Sarah felt a small blush creep up her neck.

  “That’s an example of string concatenation and function execution.”

  “Now let’s look at conditional statements.”

  lua

  CopyEdit

  function checkAccess(userRole)

  if userRole == "admin" then

  print("Access Granted")

  else

  print("Access Denied")

  end

  end

  “This is how we control permissions in virtual environments, including metaverse properties, NPC behaviors, and in-game mechanics.”

  Sarah underlined key terms in her notes. This was exactly the type of control she wanted to learn—something she could apply to her projects in Another Life. By the time the lecture wrapped up, Sarah felt energized.

  She had come into class a little late, a little nervous, but she was walking out with a fresh perspective and even more determination. As she packed up her things, she could already hear students around her talking.

  “You think the contest is still open for new applicants?”

  “Yeah, but the competition’s tough this year. I heard some big names are entering.”

  Sarah’s ears perked up.

  A contest?

  She slung her backpack over her shoulder, making a mental note to look it up later. Unbeknownst to her, Steve McCall had already entered that contest. And soon enough, their paths would cross again.

  This is part of a series of stories that have lived solely in my head for many years, and I’ve finally started writing them as serialized fiction books. If you think the story sucks, feel free to tell me—it’s all part of the process. That said, I’m also looking for constructive criticism, so any suggestions are welcome and will be considered as I work to improve the series.