The morning of their last full day on the island arrived with a gentle breeze and the soft call of seagulls over turquoise waters. Cinderella lay still in her bed for a long moment, her eyes fluttering open to the sunlight spilling in through gauzy white curtains.
She didn't rush to get up.
There was no hurry.
For once in her life, she didn't feel like she was chasing something. She had nothing to prove, no demons left to fight—only the weightless feeling of freedom that settled over her like a warm blanket.
Outside, the laughter of her friends filtered in through the open balcony door. The girls were already out by the pool, probably sipping smoothies and arguing about who took the best selfies during the trip.
Cinderella smiled.
It felt like the first morning she'd truly woken up without carrying the past with her.
No haunting echoes of Rebecca's voice.
No guilt about Stephen's betrayal.
No lingering confusion about Penelope's apology.
She breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly, her fingers curling around the edges of her sheet.
It was time.
Time to truly let go.
---
Later that afternoon, after a morning of lounging and poolside conversations, Cinderella wandered off alone to the edge of the resort where a hidden garden wrapped around the cliffs.
She found a secluded bench beneath a flowering tree, its petals fluttering around her like nature's own confetti. She took out her journal and stared at the blank page for a while before finally writing.
> I forgive them.
Her pen hovered as her eyes filled, but this time the tears didn't sting.
> Not because they asked for it. Not because they deserve a place in my life. But because I no longer want to carry the pain they gave me. It's not mine to hold anymore.
She closed the journal and tilted her face toward the sky, feeling the sun warm her skin.
She thought about Rebecca—how she had always used manipulation like a sword. How she tore down everyone around her to feel powerful. How she nearly destroyed Cinderella's childhood.
But now, Rebecca was gone. Powerless. Erased from every part of her life.
And then there was Stephen.
She had once believed he might change. That maybe the brother she grew up with would one day see her for who she was. But his silence when it mattered most had spoken volumes. He chose himself.
Letting go of him meant accepting that not everyone who shares your blood shares your heart.
Penelope was a more complicated ache. Once, they were just two teenage girls desperate to be seen. But Penelope had let jealousy and bitterness consume her. Even though she'd come to apologize, Cinderella couldn't forget the years of cruelty.
But she could release the anger.
Letting go didn't mean forgetting. It meant choosing peace over pain. Healing over revenge.
It meant giving herself permission to be happy.
---
That night, the girls planned a farewell dinner at a beachside restaurant built into the rocks. Tiki torches lit the path, and waves lapped quietly at the shore beneath their table.
They talked about what came next—jobs, plans, dreams. Cinderella shared her excitement about returning home, not with fear, but with purpose.
"You really sound... different," Eloise observed as she swirled a spoon in her drink. "In a good way."
Cinderella chuckled softly. "I feel different. Like I've finally stopped looking over my shoulder."
Heather raised her glass. "To new beginnings, then."
"To letting go," Lily added.
They clinked their glasses, the moment quiet but powerful.
---
Later, Cinderella stood alone at the edge of the water, her feet in the tide as the waves kissed her ankles. The stars above were bright, and the wind curled gently around her.
She reached into her purse and pulled out a small bundle of paper.
Old journal pages.
She had brought them on this trip without really knowing why. Pages filled with thoughts, rants, and fears from the darkest chapters of her life—written during Rebecca's reign, during Penelope's betrayal, and the nights she cried alone.
She had considered throwing them out before.
But tonight, she had brought them here for a reason.
Carefully, she tore the pages and let the wind carry the pieces away, watching as they danced into the water like little birds finally set free.
Each piece was a part of her past.
Each one gone now.
"I'm done," she whispered to the waves. "Really done."
And for the first time… she truly was.
---
The next morning, the girls packed their bags, hugged the resort staff goodbye, and climbed into their airport shuttle. The drive was filled with music, stories, and picture replays from the trip. But for Cinderella, everything felt quieter.
Not sad quiet. Just... peaceful.
As the plane ascended into the sky, Cinderella looked down at the island one last time. The sea sparkled below, holding a piece of her heart—but only the part that needed healing.
What she was bringing home now was something much greater: strength, clarity, and the joy of finally letting go.
As the plane continued to soar through the clouds, Cinderella leaned back into her seat, the soft hum of the engine a lullaby. Heather sat beside her, flicking through pictures on her phone and giggling at the silly faces they had made during breakfast.
"Okay," Eloise said, peeking over the seat from behind them, "now that the healing and soul-searching part of the trip is done, can we get back to the really important questions?"
Cinderella raised a brow. "Such as?"
"Silvester," Lily chimed in with a mischievous grin from across the aisle. "You didn't think we'd forget about him, did you?"
Heather snorted. "God, I've been dying to ask since we got here. But I wanted to be a respectful friend and all that..."
"Oh no," Cinderella laughed, already covering her face with her hands. "Please don't start."
Eloise grinned wickedly. "Start? Oh honey, we're already halfway through the investigation. We just need confirmation."
Cinderella groaned. "What investigation?"
"The way you glow every time you get off a call with him," Lily teased. "The dreamy look. The soft smile. The humming. Girl, you're so gone it's embarrassing."
"I am not!"
Heather leaned in, whispering dramatically, "Okay, but be honest… did anything happen between you two in the new apartment?"
The other girls went silent for a beat, all eyes on her.
Cinderella's face went crimson. She tried to hide it, but the blush bloomed down her neck.
"Oh my God," Eloise squealed. "She didn't say no!"
"I knew it!" Lily screamed. "I knew that quiet dinner night in was not as innocent as you claimed."
"We didn't even stay up to watch that movie," Heather added, laughing. "She texted the group chat a single emoji and then disappeared for hours!"
Cinderella buried her face in her hands. "You guys are unhinged."
"Unhinged but correct," Lily said proudly.
Cinderella peeked at them through her fingers, grinning despite herself. "Fine. Maybe... some things happened. But that's all you're getting."
"Liar," Eloise said. "You're blushing so hard it looks like your skin's made of strawberries."
Heather leaned back, her tone turning a little more playful. "So what did he say before you left? Did he give you a grand romantic speech? A poem? Did he beg you not to leave him alone for a whole two weeks?"
Cinderella smiled, remembering the way Silvester had looked at her that night.
"Well," she said, pretending to think, "he did say something right before I got in the cab."
The girls leaned in, waiting.
"He asked me…" Cinderella's voice dropped to a whisper. "He asked, 'When you come back... can I ask you a question that might change your last name?'"
All four girls screamed at once.
"What?!"
"He's going to propose!"
"Why didn't you lead with that?!"
Cinderella burst out laughing, her heart full as the teasing and chatter continued. Her friends were loud and dramatic and utterly chaotic—but they were hers. And in that moment, surrounded by their love and laughter, she felt ready for whatever came next.
She had let go of the past.
And now, the future was hers to write.