I’m sure this doesn’t sound like a big deal to the average human, but for me—a person who has actively avoided reading a book since I was forced to in school—it was huge. It was such an accomplishment that I had an adrenaline rush when I closed the book.

The wildest part is that I enjoyed it.

I only read it because I made a deal with Jasper and was curious about what he had planned. But as I got into it, I realized I didn’t only like the story—I enjoyed the act of reading. It encouraged me to turn off my phone rather than endlessly scrolling before bed. Instead, I began to settle beneath my comforter and read until my eyes were too heavy to leave open. Even my sleep has gotten better. My Apple Watch is no longer shaming me with my sleep quality.

Plus, I loved all the characters. They had real problems—some I could relate to and many I’m grateful I couldn’t—that weren’t magically resolved by the end. Instead, each character had their own ending, some happier than others, all with growth and understanding. There was no Prince Charming who swooped in and solved everything. Maybe it’s another of my never-ending list of issues stemming from my childhood, but I don’t want to watch someone get saved. I want to watch them save themselves. I want to know they can live a fulfilling life with or without a love interest.

My phone buzzes on the counter and I hit ignore when I see the name on the screen. It’s not that I’m mad at Daisy. I’m not. It wouldn’t matter if she begged Dad to leave me alone; he’d still do whatever he wanted. I don’t want to put my problems with Dad on her and I’m still too raw from yesterday’s scene to talk about it. I also have to acknowledge that Daisy has a different experience with him. I’m glad she does, but I don’t know how I’d feel hearing her stick up for him.

It’s just too bad this had to happen before my night out with Jasper. I really could’ve used her styling expertise. Elsie couldn’t help because the twins caught the stomach flu and she’s “up to here in fluids.” Add that to the long list of reasons procreating is low on my to-do list. I feel terrible for her, but I also warned her not to take her kids to a place where the mascot is a mouse. That alone promises bad things.