"I simply do not understand why my life must revolve around a man," Relia declared, rolling her eyes with dramatic flair.
Regina gasped, her needle pausing mid-stitch. "God forbid Mother hears you!" she hissed, glancing nervously toward the door before returning to her embroidery.
Roselia, lounging in her chair with a book in hand, looked as relaxed as her Persian cat, Fairymay, curled up beside her. She flipped a page with a sigh. "I simply don't understand Cinderella. Why live with such a horrid woman and her daughters?"
"I would run away," she said resolutely, shaking her head.
Rosalinda, her focus unwavering on her embroidery, spoke up in defense. "Well, I'm sure if it were that simple, Cinderella wouldn't have stayed."
"Oh, really?" Relia drawled, her tone thick with skepticism.
Rosalinda smiled at her progress, setting her needlework aside. "Indeed. I think Cinderella was very wise, gentle, and kind. I wish for a prince as well."
She rose from her seat, her big velvet pink dress fanning out as she twirled. "I have a dream to be loved by my very own prince," she said, her voice brimming with hope.
"And I'll dance under the stars," she sighed dreamily, spinning in place.
"Oh, and he'll be handsome!" she sang, her voice lilting in a high pitch.
"Or ugly," Roselia added with a mischievous smirk.
"Or a beast?" Relia suggested with a grin.
"Or a frog!" Regina joined in, her laughter filling the room.
"An ogre!" Rita gasped.
Rosalinda huffed, turning her back on them with an air of indignation. "Laugh all you want. I still believe he'll be a prince like Cinderella's, handsome, charming, and perfect."
She twirled once more, her voice lifting into song. "We'll dance in the moonlight, all night long. And at midnight, we'll be in love, get married, and live happily ever after!"
Her high-pitched refrain was interrupted by a loud hiss. Rita had clumsily dropped Fairymay, who scampered away in a flurry of white fur.
"Goodness, pardon me, Fairymay!" Rita said, laughing nervously. "I can be a bit clumsy."
"What about you, Rita?" Roselia asked, curious.
Relia leaned back, her voice dripping with disinterest. "Yes, Rita, what do you dream of?"
Rita hesitated, her hands fiddling with her apron. "Oh, well… I've always wanted to be a knight," she admitted softly.
The room fell silent.
Roselia raised a brow, breaking the stillness. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that."
"If I wanted to be any princess, it would be Aurora," Relia chimed in, breaking into a yawn. "At least she got to sleep forever. Too bad some weirdo woke her up."
"A world without the male species would be bliss," she added with a wistful sigh.
Rita frowned, bending down to scoop up a now-uncooperative Fairymay. "Why exactly do you dislike men so much? You've never even spoken to one."
Relia's gaze drifted to the darkening sky, where the first stars began to twinkle. She couldn't tell them the truth, not the real reason she didn't share their dreams.
She watched as a single star fell, streaking the heavens.
A prince won't make my dreams come true, she thought, her heart heavy with unspoken fears.
And with that, the conversation fell quiet, the room filled only with the soft rustle of pages, the hum of embroidery threads, and the distant echo of dreams, some hopeful, some wistful, and others left unspoken.