The Color She Chose

By the time she finished mopping the main floor, Cindy’s back ached. She rubbed her sore hands together and paused. The white floors sparkled like never before, and the entire house was finally spotless. Her stepmother and stepsisters had been gone for two consecutive days, which meant she could actually clean without them walking through mud or spilling champagne everywhere.

But she knew the peace wouldn’t last.

Three, two, one…

“Cinderella!” her stepmother called from the front door. “Help us with our bags.”

“Cindy,” she muttered, though she still answered, “Yes, ma’am.”

She dumped the mop water down the sink, wiped her hands on her pants, and hurried to the entryway. Her stepsisters filled the doorway, each holding two overstuffed bags, along with countless shopping bags. How much luggage does a person need for one night away?

The sisters squealed the moment they saw Cindy, launching into breathless chatter about the prince, the ball, and the dresses they’d bought. Before she could say a word, they dropped their bags at her feet and ran upstairs, giggling.

Cindy sighed, bent down, and dragged the luggage up the stairs.

“Cinderella!” her stepmother snapped as Cindy reached the landing. “I’d love my afternoon tea.”

She paused, scanning Cindy from head to toe—then recoiled. “Where on earth did you get those atrocious clothes?”

Cindy looked down and finally remembered: she’d meant to change out of her work clothes before they returned. She stood in her father’s old black trousers and a loose shirt she’d altered to fit.

“They were my dad’s,” she said quietly.

“It’s ghastly. Please change before bringing me my tea. I can’t stand to look at you a moment longer.” With a dramatic turn, her stepmother retreated to her bedroom and slammed the door.

~~~

Cindy had been roped into doing her stepsisters’ hair for the ball. She took her time with the intricate braids she twisted into elegant updos. The sisters admired themselves in the mirror, marveling out loud at her skill.

She didn’t respond, but her hands remembered the motions—her father braiding her hair years ago, long before the stepmother and her whirlwind daughters.

She helped them step into their gowns, choose their shoes, blot their lip colors.

“Won’t you come with us, Cindy?” one sister asked earnestly.

Before she could respond, her stepmother appeared in the doorway. “Nonsense, girls. The ball is no place for the help." Her voice dripped with disdain. "Besides, whatever would she wear?”

The sisters exchanged awkward glances. Cindy felt her face warm.

When the three women had finally left, she watched their town car disappear down the road from her bedroom window.

A knock sounded behind her.

She frowned. No one ever knocked on her door.

She crossed the room and opened it—and a small, overly peppy woman burst inside, carrying a shimmering dress and a pair of glittering shoes.

“Get dressed, Cinderella. You’re going to the ball!”

“It’s… Cindy,” she corrected automatically. “And where did you—? How did you—? Who are you?”

"We don’t have time for questions, Cinderella. There’s a prince, an orchestra, and about ninety chandeliers waiting.”

“Again, it's Cindy. I don’t want to go to the ball,” Cindy said, one hand still on the open bedroom door.

The woman froze mid-flutter. “What?”

“I don’t want to go,” she repeated, gesturing the strange woman towards the exit. "But you should. Please leave."

The woman closed her eyes, muttering into her hands. “They said Cinderella always wants to go to the ball. Always. The other fairies get this assignment all the time—piece of cake! And now I get the one Cinderella who won’t cooperate. Great. Wonderful. Love that for me.”

Realizing the woman had no intention of leaving anytime soon, Cindy reluctantly sat on the bed. “I’m not wearing that ridiculous sparkly thing.”

The woman spun, scandalized. “But—it’s blue! It’s glittery! It’s—classic!”

“Exactly.”

The woman took a long, theatrical breath and dramatically exhaled. “Alright. I'm understanding that the classic look is not going to work for you.” She snapped her fingers. The blue gown shivered, then melted into a soft pink dress with a glittery sheen. “How about something like this?”

Cindy’s eyes widened at the burst of magic, but her expression quickly soured. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in pastels,” she said, crossing her arms. “And you’re going to have to lose the sparkles. All of them.”

The small woman let out a tiny, panicked squeal. "All the sparkles?"

When she realized Cindy wasn’t going to back down, she grunted, tapped her foot twice, and the dress shimmered into a new form. The glitter was gone, replaced with layers of silk. This time, the gown was split down the middle by two colors. “Gold or silver?”

Cindy eyed the gown closely. "Both are beautiful, but it's so... girly. Can't I wear black?"

The woman blanched. “Black?” she whispered. “No fairy godmother has ever sent her ball-bound maiden in black.”

Cindy crossed her arms. “Fine. Then purple. Dark purple. Elegant, not flashy.”

The woman paused, blinking. “Purple… well, I suppose even a fairy can bend the rules once in a while.”

With a snap, the dress reformed—now a deep purple, the shade of Russian violets.

“Could we can make it a pantsuit?” Cindy asked hopefully.

With a startling flare, the fairy godmother nearly fainted. Cindy caught her before she toppled. “Fine,” she conceded. “I’ll wear the dress. But I’m not wearing heels.

~~~

Cindy nearly twisted her ankle for the seventh time. Steadying herself, she took a deep breath and took the last couple of steps up to the palace entrance. As she walked, she almost swore she was getting taller. Did that damn fairy godmother put me in some kind of self-growing heels?

She glanced over her shoulder, but the black limo that the fairy godmother had conjured out of a glitter and sheer audacity was already gone, taking the irritating magic woman with it.

Inside, the palace foyer was an explosion of marble, gold trim, and chandeliers. So. Many. Chandeliers.

One dangling over the entryway like a crystal jellyfish. Two more in the hall ahead. A cluster of five in the ballroom beyond, sparkling like they were personally competing for attention.

The music hit her next—something elegant and sweeping, the kind that made people glide more than walk. Cindy stepped forward, trying not to trip or wobble, and instantly became aware of the sheer number of women inside.

There had to be hundreds.

They clustered in decorative little groups, laughing too loudly, flipping curls, batting lashes, practically vibrating with the hope that the prince would look their way.

A few women turned to stare at her—among the pinks, blues, greens, and golds, her dark dress stuck out. Cindy lifted her chin.

The murmurs grew louder, and the crowd rippled before splitting down the middle, allowing someone to pass through.

Suddenly, Cindy was face-to-face with the prince.

He was annoyingly handsome in the way rich people often are: polished, symmetrical, not a hair or thread out of place.

"You're new," he said. "I would've remembered you."

Cindy raised an eyebrow. "You sure? There are dozens of women wearing this exact dress."

He blinked, taken aback, then laughed. "Your wit is refreshing. What is your name, miss?"

"Cindy."

His head tilted. "Not Cinderella?"

She resisted the urge to groan. "Absolutely not."

“Cindy,” the prince repeated, testing the name. “Would you like to dance?”

Cindy stared at his outstretched hand, heart thudding—not from nerves, but from what she was about to say.

“Thank you for the offer, Your Highness. Truly. But… no, thank you.”

She turned away, hoping that was enough. It wasn’t.

“Wait—Cindy.” He gently caught her arm, turning her back toward him. His expression was confused, not offended. “May I ask why not?”

“It’s nothing against you,” she said. “I just didn’t come for the same reason everyone else did, sire.”

“Sire,” he echoed with a faint smile. “Then why come at all? And why make yourself so impossible to overlook?”

Cindy smiled softly. "I didn't come to stand out. I came to stand on my own."

The prince's expression was still befuddled, but Cindy carried on. "If you're so inclined, Your Highness, I'd love to introduce you to my stepsisters."

The prince blinked, thrown off balance. “Your… stepsisters?”

Cindy nodded. “They’ve been dreaming of this ball for years.” Her smile turned warm. “They’re good people. A little oblivious, but they mean well. And they’ll like you far more than I do.”

The prince’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t like me?”

“Oh, I didn’t say that.” Cindy stepped aside, gesturing toward the glittering crowd. “I just think they’ll appreciate you in a way I’m not here to.”

A laugh escaped him — startled, genuine.

“Miss… I’m beginning to suspect you’re not here for me at all.”

“I’m not,” she said, unbothered. “But they are.”

~~~

The pounding on Cindy’s bedroom door jolted her awake.

“Cindy! Cindy! CINDYYYYY!”

Before she could even sit up, Ruby and Poppy burst inside, tripping over each other in their excitement.

Cindy squinted at the clock. Six in the morning. She flopped back onto the pillows and dragged the blanket over her head. “What is it?” she groaned.

“Poppy has a date with the prince tonight!” Ruby announced, practically vibrating.

“And Ruby has a date with his cousin tomorrow!” Poppy added, bouncing on her toes.

"Oh my god," they squealed together. Both on either side of Cindy's bed.

"You have to help us pick out our outfits!"

"And do our hair!"

"And makeup!"

"Oh, please, Cindy, please!"

Cindy sighed into her blanket, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward. “Yeah, okay,” she murmured. If agreeing meant she could go back to sleep, she’d take the deal.

A chorus of grateful screams erupted. Both sisters leaned down to give her a quick, delighted hug before dashing for the door.

Poppy paused in the doorway, turning back with a softer expression.

“Thank you, Cindy,” she said quietly. “Last night was… the best night ever.”

~~~

Cindy flexed her fingers and caught a glint of gold on her wrist. The delicate, valuable bracelet shimmered faintly in the morning light, a leftover from last night’s magical chaos. A sly smile tugged at her lips—helping her sisters had been fun, the prince had been entertaining, but this… this was all hers.

Independence, after all, sometimes comes in little, shiny packages. And with this one, she could finally start thinking about the life she wanted—on her own terms and in her own color.