A WEEK LATER
ISABELLA
A week later my life finally did become better. Not normal, but manageable. I got used to the world in small, practical ways. The currency stopped looking fake. The streets stopped feeling like set pieces. I learned which buses were always late, which alley shortcuts shaved three minutes off my walk, and which customers tipped well if I remembered their names. The cafe became routine.
Michael stopped watching me as I might spontaneously combust. I stopped flinching every time the door opened. I could foam milk without panic, pull espresso shots without shaking, and even joke with regulars like I belonged there, and most importantly, the CEO stopped showing up. No corner table, no laptop, no relentless staring. I told myself this was good, but that was when the universe laughed. On my break, I sat by the window with a stale croissant and flipped through the newspaper someone had abandoned on the counter. I wasn't even paying attention, just skimming headlines about stocks, politics, rich people doing rich things. Then I saw it.
'THE AURELIAN GALA THIS SATURDAY' 'An exclusive evening hosted by the city's elite, attended by influential figures and heirs…'
My stomach dropped. I knew this event, I had written it. In the novel, the gala was where everything went wrong, where the CEO officially entered high society's spotlight, where the heroine caught his attention, and where side characters like Bella Hearthstone existed purely as background decoration. I stared at the date. Saturday.
"That's… soon." I whispered.
"Oh yeah, that thing. Big deal. You going?"Michael leaned over.
I laughed, too fast and too loud.
"Me? No, absolutely not. I hate… galas. Dancing. Dresses. Plot relevance."I groaned.
"You okay?"He squinted.
I folded the paper carefully, my fingers tight around the edge.
"Yeah." I said. "Just realized something."
"What?"Michael asked curiously.
I looked back at the headline, unease curling in my chest.
"Everything is moving so quickly."I said.
"It's part of life, Bella."Michael said and smiled.
I noticed how Michael has chuckled softly. It seems that he had a good time working with me, and it seems he clearly did not care about me using words like 'story' or 'plot'. I guess he has decided it's part of me. I was still staring at the newspaper like it might politely un exist when Michael suddenly cleared his throat.
"You know." He said casually. "If you were going, I have got something."
"If I were what?"I looked up slowly.
He reached under the counter. I swear, under the counter, and pulled out a dress. A full length, elegant, absolutely not cafe appropriate dress. I blinked, once, twice.
"Michael." I said carefully. "Why do you have a gala dress under the espresso machine?"
"Lost and found."He shrugged.
"That is a lie." I pointed out.
"Okay." He admitted. "It's my sister's. She left it here. Long story."
I stared at the dress. Dark fabric, soft shimmer, expensive enough to scream plot device.
"No." I said immediately. "Absolutely not, I am not attending a gala. I am a background barista. I serve coffee. I do not serve looks."
"You would look good, though."Michael tilted his head.
"I would rather look dead." I replied.
That was when the cafe door opened, the bell rang, and my soul left my body. Rosalie Hearthstone walked in like she owned the place, which, given her expression, she probably did. Perfect posture, perfect smile, and perfect timing to ruin my life. Her eyes locked onto me instantly.
"There you are, Isabella." She said smoothly, gaze flicking to the dress in Michael's hands. "How convenient."
"Nope. I don't like that tone."I stepped back nervously.
Rosalie approached, heels clicking like a countdown.
"The Aurelian Gala is this Saturday."She said.
"I know." I said quickly. "And I will be very busy… existing elsewhere."
She smiled, the kind of smile that meant resistance was theoretical.
"You are eighteen now." She said. "A Hearthstone must attend."
"I am not a real Hearthstone." I protested. "I am barely a side-" I stopped myself.
Michael coughed, loudly. Rosalie's eyes narrowed.
"You will attend." She continued. "You already have a dress."
I stared at Michael.
"You are betraying me." I whispered.
He mouthed, 'Sorry'. Rosalie straightened my collar with practiced hands.
"Transportation is arranged. You'll make an appearance. Smile, be polite and then you may leave."She ordered.
"That's what you said about my birthday dinner."I laughed weakly.
"And you survived." She said.
As Rosalie turned to leave, she paused.
"Oh, and the CEO will be there."She added with a grin.
The room went silent. Michael slowly lowered the dress.
"I am going to die at a gala."I whispered.
Saturday morning arrived like a threat. I was still in my pajamas, clutching a mug of coffee and repeating I can still fake illness in my head, when the doorbell rang.
I froze. Then it rang again. Before I could pretend I was dead, the door flew open. In swept Ina. Michael's sister looked like she had walked straight out of a fantasy novel. She carried three bags, a garment cover, and an energy that screamed you are not escaping this. How did she even know my address?
"There you are!" She sang. "My project."
"I don't remember agreeing to anything."I blinked.
"Sweetheart, you don't agree to fate. Fate just shows up with makeup brushes."Ina smirked and set everything down like she owned the place, snapping her fingers. "Sit."
"I-"I tried to argue.
"Sit."She said.
I sat. She circled me slowly, humming, tilting my chin this way and that like she was inspecting a very confused doll.
"White hair, red eyes, wow. Genetics went hard on you."Ina grinned.
"Please don't encourage them." I muttered.
"Oh, I'm absolutely encouraging them."Ina grinned.
She pulled out brushes, compacts, pins things I was fairly sure were illegal to own in such quantities.
"This is a gala." She declared. "Not a funeral, we are going elegant, not tragic."
"Can we go invisible instead?"I asked.
"No."Ina said.
She pinned my hair back, fingers light, fast, practiced. "Trust me, you don't fight the dress. You work with it."She said.
As she worked, the mirror slowly stopped showing a tired barista and started showing someone else. Someone composed. Someone dangerous in a quiet way.
"This feels like a bad idea."I swallowed.
Ina met my eyes in the mirror, suddenly serious.
"Everything important does."She said and stepped back at last, satisfied. "There, done."
I stared at my reflection.
"Oh no." I whispered. "I look plot relevant."
"Exactly!"She said with a proud grin.
From the doorway, Michael peeked in, froze, and promptly turned red.
"Wow." He said.
I grabbed the nearest pillow and hugged it to my chest. "Tell me I can still run."I begged.
Ina only smiled.
"Not today, Cinderella."She said.
I knew that she kinda became like a fairy godmother, and somewhere in the city, the Aurelian Gala waited.