Chapter 2: The Only Person I Trust
738 Words
By the time I finished washing the dishes, cleaning the kitchen, mopping the living room floor, and doing the laundry, the sun was already high in the sky.
My back ached.
My hands smelled like soap.
And my stomach had been growling for the past hour.
I couldn't remember the last time I had eaten a proper breakfast.
Not that anyone in this house cared.
My stepmother and stepsister had already finished eating and left their dirty plates for me to wash.
As usual.
I wiped my hands on my apron and glanced at the old clock hanging on the wall.
Almost noon.
A small smile appeared on my lips.
There was only one reason I looked forward to noon every day.
Sophie.
Just thinking about her made my mood improve.
If there was one good thing left in my life, it was her.
I quickly finished my chores before heading outside.
The moment I stepped onto the street, a cool breeze brushed against my face.
For a few seconds, I simply stood there.
Free.
No yelling.
No insults.
No orders.
Just silence.
I began walking toward our usual meeting place.
A small café tucked between a bookstore and a flower shop.
The owner knew me well enough to let me sit there for hours with nothing more than a cup of coffee.
As soon as I entered, a familiar voice shouted my name.
"Aria!"
I barely had time to react before Sophie threw her arms around me.
I laughed.
"You're going to knock me over one day."
"And you're going to disappear one day if I don't feed you."
I rolled my eyes.
That was Sophie.
Always dramatic.
Always worrying.
Always acting like I was a helpless child.
She pulled me toward a corner table.
Waiting there was a sandwich, a slice of cake, and a cup of hot chocolate.
My eyes widened.
"Sophie..."
"What?"
"You spent money again."
She waved a hand dismissively.
"You need food. End of discussion."
I stared at the food.
My chest tightened.
Nobody had done things like this for me in years.
Nobody except Sophie.
Sometimes I wondered what I had done to deserve a friend like her.
"Thank you."
Her expression softened.
"You don't have to thank me every time."
I smiled.
"But I want to."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Sophie leaned forward.
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"You had the dream again, didn't you?"
The smile vanished from my face.
I should have known she would notice.
She always did.
I sighed.
"It was worse this time."
"How worse?"
"The king saw me."
Sophie's cheerful expression disappeared instantly.
"What?"
"The king."
I lowered my voice.
"He looked directly at me."
She stared at me for several seconds.
Neither of us laughed.
Neither of us made a joke.
Because after thirteen years, the dreams had stopped feeling normal.
At first, they had been nightmares.
Then they became stories.
Then they became books.
Now...
They felt like memories.
"Aria," Sophie said quietly.
"You need to stop writing about those dreams."
I nearly laughed.
We had this argument every month.
"You know I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because they're all I know how to write."
"And because they're making you famous."
That too.
I couldn't deny it.
Every novel I had written came from those dreams.
Every character.
Every castle.
Every battle.
Every terrifying king.
Readers loved them.
They called my books masterpieces.
Some even claimed the world felt real.
If only they knew.
Sometimes I thought it was real too.
Sophie folded her arms.
"I don't like it."
"You never do."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
I reached into my bag and pulled out my notebook.
The one thing I never left home without.
Every dream.
Every detail.
Every strange feeling.
I wrote them all down before they could disappear.
Sophie looked at the notebook and groaned.
"You're impossible."
I grinned.
"And you're dramatic."
"You're literally turning nightmares into a career."
"See? Dramatic."
She threw a napkin at me.
I laughed.
For the first time that day, I felt normal.
For the first time, I forgot about the castle.
The king.
The blood moon.
The nightmare.
Then my phone buzzed.
I glanced at the screen.
My smile faded instantly.
Sophie noticed.
"What is it?"
I swallowed.
The message was from my fiancé.
And for some reason...
A strange feeling settled in the pit of my stomach.
Something wasn't right.
- Writer
