Shut Up, Cinderella

A Sister's Wisdom

Cinder went to work, but his mind was elsewhere.

Sitting at his work bench, he completed order after order, shoe after shoe, cutting, sewing, shaping, stitching. He did it all mechanically, mindlessly, trying not to think of anything and just work. The only clear thought he had was the hope that nobody would walk in. All the energy he normally had for human interaction had been drained to the last drop.

It wasn't even that he was in pain. He just felt empty. Like there was a hole where something should be, draining his strength, draining his emotions, making him space out and stare into nowhere whenever he didn't watch out. The world, which had temporarily become brighter and more colorful in Gem's presence, now seemed grayer and duller than ever.

Time became an illusion. Cinder worked and worked. Sometimes people did come in, but he kept their interactions to the bare minimum. Every sentence he spoke, every second he pretended to be fine left him more and more drained, to the point where despair threatened to well up and knock down all his good manners every time the door opened.

He wanted to be alone. He wanted to think, about what, he didn't know. He just wished he could shut himself out and not speak to anyone, crawl under the blanket and close his eyes until everything was magically alright again.

But once again he wasn't allowed to feel sad. He had a family to feed.

So he set his jaw and kept working. He was fine, he told himself. It wasn't affecting him that much. This had all been his choice, and he wouldn't regret it. What was he sulking for? He had known from the very beginning that he and Gem couldn't stay happy together forever.

In all his thoughts and work he didn't notice that lunch time came and went, and outside dusk began to fall. He wasn't hungry. He was just empty and hollow and very, very tired.

Cinder didn't snap out of his thoughts until the door creaked open. Not the one leading into the street—the one that connected to the house.

He looked up and his eyes landed on Izetta's face.

Just great. Hadn't he suffered enough already?

With careful steps she approached him, placing a plate down in front of him. "You missed lunch," she said.

Cinder glanced at the plate, then back at his work. "I'm not hungry."

He expected Izetta to go away, but she remained standing in front of him, her shadow falling onto his work.

"What?" he asked impatiently.

"Are you all right?"

Cinder stiffened. Was it that obvious?

"I'm busy," he answered, demonstratively bending over the boot he was working on—Oliver's, he realized, a complicated piece of work that he still hadn't managed to finish. "Mind your own business."

"It's the prince, isn't it?"

Cinder froze.

"You had a fight this morning," Izetta said. "Is that it?"

Cinder scowled up at her. "Snooping on me, were you?"

"No! I just happened to be nearby, I promise," Izetta exclaimed, lifting her hands in a defensive gesture. "I heard raised voices...though I only caught some of it."

"Forget the things you caught, then," Cinder muttered. "Why do you think I'd let it get to me even if we did fight, huh? You know what I think of people."

Izetta just regarded him with quiet, solemn eyes.

"You love him."

It wasn't a question, not even an accusation; just a simple statement of fact.