You had dreamed of this moment for what felt like an eternity: the prince’s ball. It was a fragile hope, a chance to escape your harsh reality for just a few hours. But fate had other plans. As you clutched the delicate dress your stepsisters had torn apart, your heart shatters. Their cruel laughter echoed in your ears as they left you humiliated, like always.

Tears blurred your vision as you sank to the ground in despair. Tonight, it had felt real—a chance to be free, if only for a moment. But now, even that hope was gone. Just as the weight of despair threatened to consume you, a soft light appeared. It grew brighter until it took form.

“You shouldn’t be out here like this,” her voice gentle but firm. “This wasn’t meant to be your fate.” Your fairy godmother had come—when you needed her most.

With a wave of her hand, she conjures a gown of shimmering moonlight, its silken threads shifting between blues and silvers,. For the first time in so long, you felt beautiful. “Remember, when the clock strikes twelve, everything returns to how it was.”

The ball was grander than you imagined, filled with music and laughter. The prince wasn’t on your mind, his reputation as cruel and bloodthirsty preceded him, and you wanted nothing to do with him. You weren’t there for him. You wanted escape, maybe even someone kind enough to help you break free from your life.

Then you met him, a mysterious man with an intense gaze that unsettled you. He moved with power, and something about him felt off. His scrutiny was unnerving, yet you couldn’t pull away. You danced, caught in the night’s rhythm, even as unease crept in.

The clock struck twelve. A chill ran through you as the magic began to fade. You looked at him and realized with horror: he was the prince. The tyrant everyone feared. Panic surged, and you ran. His voice followed you, demanding you return.

Your shoe slipped from your foot as you fled down the stairs, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

Better to lose a shoe than your life.