The Invisible Girl
963 Words
“I wish I could have a Val today… Oh, how I wish Eros would be mine,” Elsa whispered, opening her ocean-blue eyes.
She believed in wishes.
Not the childish kind whispered to shooting stars — but the kind planted deliberately into the subconscious mind.
She had learned about it from The Game of Life and How to Play It by Florence Scovel Shinn.
From Feeling Is the Secret by Neville Goddard.
Thoughts create reality.
Feeling attracts experience.
That was what she believed.
Elsa folded her legs beneath her on the balcony floor, crossing them neatly as she closed her eyes again. The ocean breeze brushed against her skin, cool and salty, grounding her.
She inhaled deeply.
Exhaled slowly.
In her mind, she built the day she wanted.
She imagined laughter.
Imagined being looked at — truly looked at.
Imagined Eros standing close enough that she could feel his warmth.
She fed her subconscious beautiful images, carefully curated memories that had not yet happened.
“Our thoughts are our greatest asset,” she murmured to herself.
For thirty minutes, she meditated — the way she did every morning. Meditation had been her refuge. The only place where the echoes of her childhood could not reach her.
It had saved her.
When she opened her eyes, peace lingered in her chest.
Hope followed.
She stood and returned inside.
---
Elsa's Routine
The underground gym was silent except for the hum of the air conditioner and the steady rhythm of her breathing.
Elsa trained for an hour and thirty minutes every morning. Discipline was her armor. Control was her therapy.
Alan Walker’s music pulsed softly from her Bluetooth speaker as she moved between machines, her grey leggings clinging to toned legs, her white sports bra dampened slightly with sweat.
Pain, she understood.
But this kind of pain was chosen.
And that made all the difference.
When she finished, she didn’t wait for sweat to dry — the air-conditioning had already cooled her skin.
Upstairs, she showered quickly, letting warm water cascade over her shoulders. She skipped her usual organic skincare routine — donkey milk, honey, and tomato extracts — though she loved how they kept her skin luminous and clear.
She was running late.
Today mattered.
She stepped into a red strapless knee-length dress that hugged her upper body before flowing gently below her waist. A white scarf wrapped elegantly over her shoulders in an Indian-inspired drape.
Red ankle-length heeled boots completed the look.
In the mirror, she studied herself.
Hope flickered.
She braided her waist-length black hair and pinned it to one side with red-and-white butterfly clips. The movement exposed the tattoo on the left side of her neck — a blue and black butterfly surrounded by delicate golden stars.
The Emeritus mark.
Proof of lineage.
Proof of power.
Proof of a family that had never truly felt like one.
“What’s the use of this tattoo?” she muttered softly, fingers brushing it. “I hate that it reminds me who I am.”
Elsa Emeritus.
Wealthy. Powerful. Untouchable.
And yet… lonely.
She grabbed her red backpack. Unlike other girls, she preferred backpacks over designer handbags. She avoided attention. If she didn’t tell you her last name, you would never know she belonged to one of the most influential families.
From the refrigerator, she grabbed her daily smoothie — banana, tomato, and milk blended smoothly.
She took one last look at herself before leaving.
“Today,” she whispered.
---
Eros’ Mansion
Water sliced sharply as Eros surfaced from the pool.
Droplets traced down his toned chest as he pushed wet curls away from his face. His ocean-blue swim shorts clung low against his hips.
“Get out, man! We’ll be late!” Luciano Aetros called, tossing him a white towel. “It’s Valentine’s Day. I have to surprise my girlfriend.”
Eros caught the towel without looking.
Girlfriend.
He smirked faintly.
“When did you get one of those?” he asked, drying his neck slowly.
“Last night.”
Eros raised an eyebrow.
“For the occasion,” Luciano added defensively. “I’m trying to be a gentleman. Unlike you.”
Eros laughed under his breath — low, controlled.
“Is that what we’re calling it now? Renting affection for twenty-four hours?”
Luciano scoffed and dropped into the chair beside him. “You’re the biggest player at Hult International Business School. Don’t pretend to be a saint.”
The maids nearby pretended not to listen.
Power lingered in the air — not loud, but understood.
Eros leaned back, stretching his long frame across the chair. At 6’3”, he towered over most men — including Luciano.
Storm-grey eyes.
Gold-brown shoulder-length curls.
Sharp jaw.
Controlled expression.
Athena had named him Eros for a reason.
He had beauty.
But beauty could be deceiving.
“You still call girls sluts,” Luciano continued. “But you’re worse than all of us.”
Eros’ jaw tightened briefly — almost imperceptibly.
“I don’t lecture,” he replied calmly. “I observe.”
Luciano laughed. “So tell me, observer — do you have a Val?”
Eros paused.
For a second too long.
“I have someone in mind.”
Luciano leaned forward eagerly. “Who?”
Eros’ gaze drifted toward the horizon, expression unreadable.
“The invisible girl.”
The words were quiet.
Measured.
Luciano frowned. “Invisible?”
Eros’ lips curved slightly.
“She thinks no one sees her.”
There was something in his tone — something deliberate.
Something that suggested he had been watching longer than anyone realized.
---
Author’s POV:
Who do you think the invisible girl is?
Care to guess?
Happy Valentine's Day
Don’t forget to comment, share, vote, and follow 🤍
Xoxo
Bella Angel Douglas
- Writer
