Ever After Happily Devra G, Class of 2025 you could certainly take much interest in exploring each corridor, and picnic at night with your lover in the shade of the handsome, blossoming tree out back. And it was a fine place to live at first when all you could focus on was the fact that you were there, and you had married the prince, and all of your troubles were over. But once the novelty began to wear off, the palace was still there, and it was huge, and cold, and impersonal, and nothing at all like a home truly should be. The prince was like that, too. He was wonderful to spend a day with– charming, gallant, and a tad witty, although his jokes were never as funny as he made them out to be. And he was handsome, of course, with his dark hair, muscular build, and regal chin. His greatest skill, though, was making a girl feel special. Feel wanted. He’d kiss her, with passion, and sometimes on the neck, which always made her gasp. At first, that was all she thought she needed. But he was reckless, and he drank too much, and he was lazy. For so many years, Cinderella had tried to convince herself that she was being picky. It was only sitting there, in the shade of the tree, that she realized how absolutely peaceful it was with the prince away. Oh, he’d be back from his business trip soon enough—he always was. Still, the lack of him gave the air an intangible sort of relief to it, like the whole world was exhaling. It was maybe a little bit of a terrible thing to think, but she thought it nonetheless. “I made a mistake.” Cinderella opened her mouth and continued:
“Dear child,” said a voice from right nearby, “what is troubling you?” Cinderella blinked her eyes open from where she’d closed them, sitting under the blossoming cherry tree. It took a moment for the image before her to register; it was her fairy godmother, who she remembered as though from another life when she was young and naïve and her problems so small. But this woman was just the same: short, and old and plump, with lavender robes and white hair. In her hand, she held a long white wand. Her eyes were kind. “What is troubling you?” Cinderella took a deep breath, trying to clear her head of the restlessness that had so recently taken up residence there. “I made a mistake,” she said aloud. Her voice was dull and dry, so it hurt to speak. She was not a child anymore, not even a young woman. It was funny how it happened like that, days soaking into nights and nights bleeding into days. The kind of funny that wasn’t funny at all. Her fairy godmother looked at her, gaze unreadable. She didn’t speak, waiting instead for Cinderella to elaborate. Cinderella glanced away from her godmother’s poring gaze, eyes flickering towards the palace instead. She’d been trying to avoid glancing at it, instead focusing on the sweet petals swirling around her. The palace was deceptive, just like most things in her life now. It was attention-grabbing, large, and full of turrets and peaks. It would have been a fine place to spend a day perhaps, as 5
