Cinderella.

“Come with me”, she whispered as she held on to him, lying next to him. Heart to heart, breath to breath.

“We’ll go away, we’ll be happy together. Don’t waste your life on unhappiness, don’t do this to yourself”, she pleaded. Her eyes were beginning to mist.

He turned his head to look at her face. Begging. Loving. Concerned. Desperate. He tore his eyes away with great difficulty. He loved her very much...

“I can’t. You know I can’t... I wish I could.”

“There was so much I wanted to do with you...”, she said.

They kissed. It was the last time they would be together. She had to make a decision before the ball. “Will I ever see you again?”, he asked. She pulled herself away from him, adjusted the straps on her gown which somehow reflected her sadness in its dull silver glow. She dragged her feet towards the door. Stepped out, looked around.

“That depends. Are you going to come find me?”

The door shut on his silence.

Outside, the chariot awaited. It would take her towards the ball. Away from him. She had her answer.

All eyes moved with her when she entered the ball. The prince waited in the distance. As she drew near, she saw something in his hand catch the light. A glass slipper. Bone-deep grief pulled her eyes shut before they could betray her; a tear escaped just in time to roll down her cheek. There was no going back now.

She knew how this would play out.

The glass slipper would fit perfectly.