So This is Love (Disney Twisted Tales) - Elizabeth Lim Page 0,5

to the company of her stepsisters. Until the previous night, she hadn’t spoken with anyone outside her father’s house in weeks, likely even months.

An ache stirred in her heart as she remembered her easy conversation—with Charles, the prince. If only she’d known.

What would it have changed? I would still have run off at midnight, wouldn’t I?

Unsure of the answer, she sighed and watched the mice finally scurry off, disappearing back into the wall. She wished she could escape her room as easily, but no one was coming to save her, least of all the mice.

She inhaled a ragged breath and steadied herself. She used to spend hours every night wondering what she’d done to make her stepmother hate her so much. Her attempts to swallow her pride and obey Lady Tremaine so she might feel some affection for her seemed to only infuriate her stepmother more. As Cinderella grew older, she gave up and simply focused on making each day as bearable as possible.

Time crawled forward. Cinderella didn’t know how long she sat there, drying her tears and trying to convince herself that everything would turn out all right. After what seemed a very long time, the gates outside closed once more.

She rose and went to the window, leaning against the wooden sill as she watched the Grand Duke’s carriage curve out of her father’s manor and disappear beyond the oak trees lining the road. Her stepmother did not see the duke out, which could only mean that neither Anastasia nor Drizella had fit the glass slipper.

No surprise there, yet Cinderella felt no satisfaction. Only relief.

Maybe now everything will go back to the way it was.

She pursed her lips; only a fool would believe that was true.

Things couldn’t go back to the way they were. Besides, now that she’d tasted the possibility of a new life—for the first time since her father’s death—could she fathom returning to being her stepmother and stepsisters’ servant?

Stifling a sigh, she bunched up the folds of her apron in her fist, squeezing tight.

Not everything is lost, she reasoned. I still have the other glass slipper.

But what good would that do her here? Storm clouds brewed in the distance, a bitter breeze gusting into her room. Cinderella shut the window, but her hand lingered on the pane.

Her father’s chateau had been her home ever since she was born. It had been beautiful, once. Towering oak trees had surrounded the estate, ivy crawling over the gray-painted bricks; Cinderella’s favorite part had been the garden, where she’d spent countless hours with her mother on a swing richly covered with flowers.

The swing was no more, long since taken down. Aside from her memories, this place was all she had left of her mother and father—Lady Tremaine had sold most of her parents’ belongings years ago: their portraits and paintings, their books, their furniture, their clothes. And their letters, she had burned.

For so long, Cinderella had ignored the tug in her heart to leave. How could she go when this place was all she knew—when it was all she had left of her loving parents? How did she know that life out there would be any better than the one she suffered here? Not to mention the fact that she had nowhere to go, no plan for how to support herself. There weren’t a lot of options for a penniless orphan.

Besides, Lady Tremaine and her daughters were the only family she had left. So whatever bitterness she felt toward them for making her a servant in her own home, she swallowed. Papa would have wanted me to help take care of them, she would tell herself.

But for the first time, she was beginning to question whether that was true.

For the first time, she saw that Lady Tremaine would never want what was best for her, that any time Cinderella came close to feeling a spark of happiness, she would try to smother it.

As though she’d summoned her, Cinderella heard her stepmother’s footsteps again, steadily ascending the tower’s stairwell. Except this time, Lady Tremaine would not visit alone.

“Can you believe the nerve of that man?” Anastasia huffed. “That was clearly my slipper. My slipper!”

“Your slipper?” said Drizella. “That’s rich.”

Their mother rebuked them. “Girls! Some dignity.”

Cinderella’s stepsisters quieted, but not for long.

Anastasia was the first to complain again. Slightly breathless, she said, “Why do we have to go all the way up here? It’s so dusty.”

“I thought I heard a mouse,” Drizella added. “Mother, can’t we just have her come down? Why