Cinderella Man

Cinderella Man Chapter 24

Hello everybody!

I am here to deliever something very rare for me, an upload! I hate how I always do this, but I'm going have to accept the fact that it will happen. I have so many things constantly happening in my life (like exams and work) that unfortunately, my work on here is not always the first thing on my mind. I will upload when I can and when inspiration strikes, whenever that may be. 

But anyways, I really hope you enjoy this little part of the story. A little insight into Emily's, and her mothers, minds. 

So let me know what you think, and be brutal! If you want to scream at me in aggressive caplocks for not uploading in ages then feel free to, I do deserve it. 

Enjoy

Emily’s POV

It’s been weeks since I last saw Sam.

I’ve heard his song on the radio every day since it was released. It’s been number one for two weeks now and doesn’t seem to be moving from that spot any time soon. Sam’s finally made it.

Every time I hear it, I know that song is for me. He wrote it before everything changed. Back when I was nobody, when he saw me as just a regular girl. Back when I was free to love who I wanted.

Everything was simpler back then. There was no impending marriage, there was no obstacle, there was only me and him.

And now I’m standing here, staring at myself dressed in a gown that my mother has chosen, wishing that everything could be different.

This isn’t how the stories told me it would be. In Cinderella, there was no deadline to meet her prince. In snow white, there was no arranged marriage to man she didn’t love. In beauty and the beast, she wasn’t denied her one true love.

It turns out, playing princess and living in a castle is not what the world believes it is. This is the furthest thing from a fairy-tale.

“Ow!” I exclaim as once again, I poked with a pin.

“Sorry your majesty,” the seamstress apologises for the hundredth time. Soon enough, this dress will be more red than white.

“Well if you would stop moving Emily, Ms Baxter wouldn’t keep sticking you with her pins, now would she,” my mum scowls while somehow managing to keep a polite yet tight smile on her stressed face.

“Well, I’ve been standing here for a total of two hours now and I believe my bladder may explode if I stay here a minute more. Is there any possibility that I may go to the bathroom mother?” I ask, fidgeting a little to emphasise my point.

“Oh come on Emily, ten more minutes that’s all.”

The thing is, I’m really not sure I can last one minute, let alone ten.

I’m standing here, in the most prestigious wedding shop in the whole of London, having my final fitting in my wedding dress.

It’s the biggest most expensive ball gown I have ever laid my eyes on, and I hate it. The design is extreme and luxurious and far too glamourous for my liking, but this was my mother’s design and therefore, this is what I must wear.  It’s not what I ever imagined my wedding gown looking like, but it’s the one I’m wearing.

“Okay sweetie, you’re all done,” Ms Baxter bows out.

I’ve never ran to the toilet so quickly in my life.

The ride home to the palace is silent, just like it always is when mother and I are alone. Unless she’s criticising me, she never has anything to say. Just as we pull to a stop outside the palace, mother reaches across and locks my door.