The Transcript Mirror

Chapter 1

"Have you heard?! The prince is coming to town, and he's looking for someone to rule by his side! I do hope it's me."

"I wonder if he's more dashing in person..."

"Oh, he'll absolutely fall in love with me!"

Excited chatter rang through the market square, rising above the hum of merchants and traders. News of the prince's arrival had set every young girl, or should I say "damsel" in town, into a dizzying frenzy—every girl, that is, except me. It wasn't that I disliked the prince or thought poorly of him, but life had handed me other, far heavier priorities than chasing the fancy of a boy with blue blood.

"You know, Lia, maybe you should be a little more excited about the prince coming down. After all, you aren't getting any younger." My mother's voice cut through my thoughts, laced with a tone of insistence I knew all too well.

I shot her a look. "Mom, if you could just concentrate on picking the tomatoes, that would be great," I mumbled, hoping she'd drop the subject.

Undeterred, she plucked a ripe tomato and placed it in her basket. "If you started caring for yourself, my child, I could concentrate on the tomatoes. You don't have to hold yourself responsible for anything here. It's time you lived your life... and maybe the prince could help you make that change."

I sighed, glancing around the bustling marketplace. It would be nice to live my life—maybe in a cozy cottage by a lake, surrounded by fields of flowers. The air would smell of fresh blueberry pie, and children's laughter would fill the garden. Just quietness and bliss, away from all this. But as much as I craved it, I knew I could never leave my mother. Not after everything she'd been through.

After my father left, she'd fallen into a deep sadness that seeped through every corner of our little home. She'd tried to keep things running, but I had been the one to hold our lives together. At the time, it felt like the only choice, even if it meant growing up too quickly.

But I hadn't always been alone in this. I had my best friend once, the only person who could see me as I was, who could understand the weight I carried. We'd talk about everything under the sun—our dreams, our fears, the little fantasies we dared whisper only to each other. But she left, too. Her parents grew weary of this small provincial town and moved away. It wasn't her fault, but I couldn't shake the hurt, the betrayal. Losing her had shown me that loneliness can be both a curse and a strange, bitter kind of blessing.

As I was lost in thought, my mother snapped me back to reality by thrusting the vegetable bags toward me. I turned around, noticing how the weighty silence had settled back around me, until—

"Buzz." The sound jerked me out of my reverie. I stopped, fumbling to pull the device out of my jeans pocket. Whoever thought these infernal phones were a good idea? In a town ruled by a monarchy, no less! You'd think we'd stick to letters.

"Don't forget to come in your best. You have a big client. You better get me some good money, my little vixen."

I sighed. And that was one reason why I hated these phones.

The truth of it was, my life was anything but normal. When I was fifteen, drowning in debts and desperation, I'd taken on this job. It paid enough to keep the lights on, to keep my mother smiling, even if it came at the cost of my freedom. By now, I'd been at it for six years—stuck, as though bonded to my fate with superglue on broken porcelain.

I tried leaving once, but it wasn't so simple. They'd followed me everywhere, making it impossible to find other work. I'd become their "best," and they'd made it clear that they didn't intend to lose me. So I stayed, and my dreams of a life outside this one faded into a half-remembered mirage.

Breaking out of my thoughts, I noticed my mother waddling over, bags heavy with vegetables. She must never know what I do. If she did, she'd be crushed, disappointed beyond words. So, I'd keep it all buried. I'd shoulder it myself, as always.

"Honey! Look! I got an amazing deal on these vegetables. He gave me an entire bag for free! People are so nice."

Unable to contain her excitement, she squealed with joy, her face lit up with the same carefree happiness she used to have.

"Mom," I teased, smirking, "you know Mr. Jones is interested in you, right? That's probably why he gave you the free bag. Maybe you should give him a chance! He seems nice, and you've still got all your charm."

The horrified expression that crossed her face was priceless.

"Missy, instead of matchmaking me with the vegetable seller, why not try the butcher? At least I wouldn't get tired of eating chicken or lamb! Besides, I'm sure Mr. Jones gives a free bag to every pretty old maid in town."

I laughed, surprised by her response as she handed me the bags to carry. What did she put in here? Gold bricks? I glanced up, my laugh fading as I saw Mr. Jones standing by his stall, looking over with a goofy grin. He might as well have been love-struck, drooling over my mother like a schoolboy.

She turned as slowly as possible, shoulders tense, and gave him an awkward smile. His face lit up even more, which I didn't think was possible. I stifled a giggle as my mother turned back to me, clearly embarrassed.

"Uh-huh... I'm sure he stands there, looking like that for every pretty maid, huh, Mom?" I teased, and she shot me her best "Why me?" look.

Chuckling, I took her frail hand in mine, and we began to walk away, at a brisker pace than before. "Mom..." I started, but she cut me off.

"Keep your lips sealed, Lia," she muttered.

Laughing, I squeezed her hand lightly as we walked in silence toward our little home. I hoped moments like this would never fade or slip away, even as reality loomed over me. It was then that I noticed the shadow of a figure, just a little ways down the road, watching us.

The sight made my heart race. Was I imagining things, or had that person been there before? I slowed my steps, glancing back subtly, but the figure was gone, vanished into the crowded market.

A shiver ran down my spine. Perhaps it was nothing, but a strange feeling lingered, as though something—or someone—had begun to shift in my life, like the first faint tremors before a storm.