The sun dipped low over the horizon, spilling gold and tangerine across the ocean as Cinderella stood barefoot in the sand. The breeze teased the hem of her sundress, and the laughter of her friends drifted up from the shoreline where they were gathered around a crackling bonfire.
Heather was playing music from a speaker buried halfway in the sand, while Eloise and Lily danced without rhythm, their movements wild and carefree. Cinderella watched them with a soft smile, letting herself soak in the joy that bloomed around her.
This—this was freedom.
Not just the kind you feel in the open air or during a vacation with friends, but the deep, soul-liberating kind that came after years of silence, suppression, and survival.
She turned away from the sea and walked slowly back toward the fire, dropping onto one of the wide towels spread out on the sand. Her hands propped her up as she leaned back, her eyes drawn to the stars beginning to emerge overhead. The scent of toasted marshmallows filled the air.
"How long are you going to sit there staring into the void?" Heather's voice broke the moment gently.
Cinderella turned to her with a small laugh. "Just thinking."
Heather flopped beside her, nudging her shoulder. "You've been thinking a lot on this trip."
"Can you blame me?" she murmured. "Sometimes I still can't believe I made it here."
Heather followed her gaze to the ocean. "You deserve to be here, Cinders. You fought your way out of a nightmare. And now… you're finally free."
Cinderella smiled again, but this one was touched with something deeper. "Do you remember how I used to be at sixteen?"
Heather gave a dramatic groan. "Shy. Quiet. Always sitting at the back of class. I swear, I didn't even know your voice until junior year."
They both laughed at that, drawing Eloise and Lily's attention.
"Talking about Cinder's tragic backstory again?" Eloise called out, skipping over with a stick of roasted marshmallows. "Here, sugar therapy."
Cinderella accepted the treat, and they all settled together around the fire. The music faded into a soft, ambient track, and for a few minutes, there was only the crackle of flames and the whisper of waves.
"I don't think I've ever told you girls everything," Cinderella said quietly.
The others glanced at each other, giving her space without pressure.
"I was so scared for so long," she began. "Living with Rebecca… with Penelope and Stephen… I felt like I was trapped in someone else's life. Like I didn't even exist. I let them walk over me. I let myself believe I didn't matter."
"You were a child," Lily said gently.
Cinderella nodded. "Maybe. But I carried that fear for years. Even after Rebecca was gone. Even when I was winning."
Heather placed a hand on hers. "And now?"
"Now…" Cinderella looked up at the stars again. "Now I don't feel like I'm running anymore. I'm not surviving—I'm living. I have friends. A future. I have someone who loves me for exactly who I am. And most importantly… I love myself too."
They all exchanged quiet glances, the kind that didn't need words. They had seen her journey. Not all of it, but enough to know how far she had come.
"I'm proud of you," Eloise whispered. "We all are."
Cinderella blinked fast, the emotion rising in her throat. "Thanks," she said, her voice hoarse.
---
The next few days were blissful. They went hiking along the cliffs, took dozens of photos, danced under moonlight, and played silly games in their hotel rooms. It was everything she had dreamed of during those lonely nights in the Harper mansion. Every laugh was a declaration: I'm no longer that helpless girl.
One afternoon, she found herself alone, sitting beneath a shaded cabana with her journal in hand. The others were swimming, their voices echoing through the poolside area.
She flipped to a clean page and began to write:
> I used to think healing was a destination. Something I'd reach after I left the Harper house. After Rebecca's trial. After graduation. But healing isn't a finish line—it's a journey. And maybe I'm still on it. But for the first time, I'm not walking in the dark. I'm walking with light in my heart. With love. With purpose.
She paused, tears slipping down her cheeks—not from pain, but gratitude.
---
On the final evening of the trip, they all got dressed up and went to a rooftop restaurant overlooking the sea. Cinderella wore a long, elegant lavender dress with her hair swept to one side. Her eyes sparkled, and not just from the string lights that lined the balcony.
They toasted to their futures, to friendship, and to all the things they had survived.
As the music played and the stars twinkled overhead, Cinderella leaned against the balcony rail and pulled out her phone. She opened her camera, snapped a photo of the night sky, and sent it to Silvester with a caption:
> I'm coming home soon baby. I missed you.
His reply came almost instantly:
> Counting the hours. I have a surprise for you.
Her heart skipped. She bit back a smile and typed back:
> Don't you dare propose in front of my dad.
> Noted.
…How about your friends?
Just kidding. Or not.
She laughed and tucked the phone away.
As the music swelled, Cinderella turned back to the table, to her friends, to her life.
This—this was the journey to freedom. And she was just getting started.