Chapter Text
My first marriage was a love match-- or so I made others believe it was. The truth is, my first husband was someone with an unpredictable temper and possessed the cruellest words in his vocabulary. At first, it was actual love. Agape, as Greeks call it, would perfectly describe the beginnings of our marriage. I was born in a small village on the coast of France. Life was hard and we never found enough food on the table, especially when my father preferred to gamble all our wealth away. My mother often cried because of him. She was a poor seamstress who didn't know how to express her distress apart from shedding useless tears that nobody would care for. She often sat next to the fireplace and told us stories about our father. About how he was a nobleman, about how he was the greatest person in her life. He saved her from poverty by caging her in what he called 'marriage' but I would call agony. I knew since young that love was as worthy as the bread on the table. It keeps someone fed and warm but it is priced. When I returned home from the beach, I heard screams a mile away. It was my father. He owed too much money and they took out their revenge by challenging him to a duel. Blinded by his own ego, he died. What of our poor mother? What of me? What of my poor younger sister? Mother soon fell ill. Whenever she was conscious, she was mourning my father and whenever she slept, she exhausted herself with dreams of him. Love killed this poor woman and the worst part was that she was never nurtured by it. Never.
One day, my mother called both of us to her bed and with a trembling hand, she handed us a letter, telling us that it would save us in desperate times. After telling us, she exhaled one last time and went to find Father in heaven. I doubted that he would go to heaven. We became known as the poorest in the village. Our clothes were never clean and our stomachs were constantly empty. I couldn't do it anymore. I stole a piece of bread to feed us but they discovered me in the act. They dragged me to the police where I was interrogated. Then their expressions changed. A week later, a carriage came to our home. A lady dressed in silk collected us from our miserable lives and brought us into the city. My father's family found out about us and gave us a home again. But this environment was constantly unstable. We were orphans anyway. The other ladies from wealthy backgrounds wouldn't speak to us because of our seamstress mother. But then she came.
Anna.
Her family was one of the most respected families in town. Perfect Anna. Wherever she went, she was followed by her admirers. It seemed like God didn't favour many people but favoured her. I often watched her with silent envy as she laughed with her friends and walked around in the prettiest silks. I know that she doesn't know about me or my existence. People like me are meant to deserve gloomy lives in order to uplift the marvellous lives of the chosen ones. She was perfect. So perfect that it became my obsession. Whenever I did something, I thought about how she would do it. Whenever I went somewhere, I thought about whether she would appreciate it as much as I.
Then it was knowing Anna.
It was a ball we were both invited to. She was invited to be the centre of attention while I was invited by chance and convenience. I remember that she wore a pale pink dress. As she smiled, it stunned me. I know that I shouldn't feel this way but I couldn't help it. I sat in the corner as nobody invited the odd girl to dance. But she sat next to me.
Oh gosh, I'm just so sick of dancing. My feet are aching! She smelled like rose petals as well. All I could do was sit awkwardly and try not to trip over my words but she seemed to take interest. She asked me about my life in the village and I know that I wouldn't have told anyone but I told her anyway. Because she is Anna. The perfect Anna. She invited me over for tea the next day. Although I didn't appear physically excited, my hands were secretly trembling. That night I spent hours picking the perfect jewels and the perfect dress for the occasion. What if this was my only chance to befriend her and I messed everything up? I rehearsed what I wanted to say in my head before entering her home. Just like her, her home was perfect. She welcomed me warmly and when she laughed at one of my mild jokes, I was temporarily stunned. The more she talked, the more I understood why people liked her so much. Unpretentious and always thoughtful, she would make people feel the best about themselves. I was grateful that she invited me. When I left, she invited me for a walk in the marketplace. And when I left, I heard her laughing with her parents. The lights on the porch stretched my shadow thin and long. She had a perfect family while I had nothing.
The more we became friends, the more I relied on her. Because of her, more people were willing to talk to me. Being her friend gave me the illusion that I was just as acceptable without her. One night, my perspective changed. She came to my house sobbing and I took her into my arms. I let her tears dry before she told me that a boy she believed to have loved decided to propose to another. As she cried in my arms, I soothed her back. A part of me rejoiced in her misery. She was miserable and I was the first person she talked to. I was the first person to witness her vulnerability. How glad I was. I knew it was wrong that her misery gave me some twisted sense of joy but it was just that way. And when she looked at me with foggy eyes, she asked me, what would I be without love? They all love the smiling Anna but who would love the Anna who is actually insecure and miserable? I soothed her.
I would.
But I never told her that.
I went to bed feeling happy. Happiness that burst at its seams. But the next day, when I arrived at her house, I found her being comforted by other girls. She told others about the affair. It seemed like what I originally considered a private secret between us was no longer private. I was so angry that I left without greeting anyone. Why was I so angry? I forgot. I cried that night and recalled the feeling of envy and jealousy again. I was delusional in thinking that the perfect Anna would share her secret with me. I distanced myself from her and she noticed. I resent her for noticing all of my emotions. She asked me what was wrong and I never told her. The next week she bought me a necklace I always wanted and brought crooked cookies that she made herself. She told me it was her first time attempting to bake cookies and she smiled proudly, expecting a compliment. People often complimented her and she was used to being praised. I didn't want to forgive her but I almost instantly did. I was like a moth, drawn to light. Her light.
One night, we lay in bed talking about our future. Who is your prince charming? She asked me. I paused for I didn't know the answer to that question. Who exactly was my prince charming? I asked her the same question and she blushed. I felt my heart sinking. She told me that she had been fancying this boy she met at church. She told me that he had the most heavenly eyes she had ever seen. But don't worry, we will forever be friends even if we get married. She told me.
They met secretly every week and for once, I was the only one who knew. The only reason why I didn't protest was because there was something private between us one more. A secret shared between her and me. He proposed to her and she agreed. When she shared the exciting news with me, I cried. I didn't know why I did but there was something pressing on my heart. Almost like a heavy stone. Oh, don't cry... We will still get to see each other every week. She wiped away my tears. For the first time, I gathered courage and took her hand which was wiping my tears.
I'm glad that you found happiness, that's all.
I lied.
She looked so heavenly in white. I witnessed them exchanging vows as her maid of honour. She looked so entirely enamoured with him and so incredibly elated with the idea of being his wife. They looked every bit the besotted couple. But what about us? Nothing. She didn't stay true to her promise. After getting married, they moved to a chateau outside of the city. She disappeared. Just like that, I was on my own. I never knew that her wedding was their official union but also our official valediction.
My father's family encountered great financial issues and desperately needed to sacrifice a daughter to save them. I was the daughter. My first husband was too overly confident but his wealth solved a lot of problems for my family. I couldn't refuse. I knew better than to deny money. We got married and moved into a beautiful townhouse. Naively, I believed in my husband's words. Sometimes I wonder if the emotions I felt were the same enamoured feelings Anna has for her husband. Then he revealed his true colours. He took multiple mistresses and had multiple affairs. Some publicly embarrassed me, some belittled me into nothingness. Whenever I was miserable, I thought about Anna. If she was in the same situation, she would know what to do. But I wasn't her and she was out of my life. Things didn't get any better after the birth of my daughters. At first, he promised to be a loyal husband and a dutiful father but it soon became apparent that he forgot his words. He was a selfish husband and an unavailable father. Just like my father, he became addicted to gambling and drinking. When he died of a heart attack, I didn't shed any tears.
Anna came to the funeral.
My tears started to fall unexpectedly. She said nothing as she pulled me into a warm embrace. I resented her deeply. Why would she barge into my life again when all she did before was forget about us? Why did she want to be here just to witness me in my most vulnerable state? But she just hugged me and let me cry into her expensive dress. Just like the other times when she soothed me to bed, she rubbed my back gently. But it was different. The diamond ring on her finger kept digging into my back. I was widowed while she was still perfectly married.
Leave.
After the guests were all gone, she stayed and hoped to speak to me. But I didn't want to crumble in front of her. If she stayed one more moment, I might crack and spill out everything. All my resentment, all my fears and worries. The perfect Anna shouldn't hear the troubles of an old friend. Surely she had better ones with fewer problems and less obnoxious tears. She looked stunned when I repeated myself. Her face was pale and she reached to touch my hand. The ring on her finger stunned me again and I tugged my hand away.
Leave... please...
Eleanor, I want to be here for you...
Leave! Anna for goodness sake! Can't you see that your being here is causing me more distress? If you truly wanted to be here for me, you would have come years ago. Why are you only showing up now? Do you wish to mock me with your perfect life and your perfect marriage?
Her lips trembled and she looked as if she was holding back a painful feeling. She looked so helpless. My heart was slowly cracking and I knew that I had forgiven her the moment she looked at me at the funeral. But resenting her was the last piece of dignity I had. My husband lost all our fortune in gambling and I was just Lady Tremaine. No money but a title. She was about to say something but in the end, she shook her head and left. After the front door shut, I crumbled to the ground shaking from distraught. She went home and I never heard from her again.
I collected my feelings and thought about what I should do for my daughters. I didn't want them to repeat the childhood I had, I also didn't want to rot away like my own mother. For them, I would have to bury all of my emotions and shove them underground. I threw parties. Parties that even the nobles attended. With my title and connections, I arranged meetings with the wealthy and made my money through their gambling. Someone unexpectedly came into my parlour one day. When I saw him, I nearly dropped my facade. I never knew that Anna's husband would also gamble. He told me that he came here to look for me.
Anna died.
He kept speaking with his head buried in his hands but I could hear nothing apart from a constant ringing sound in my mind. Dead? Impossible. This was the Anna that God loved the most. This was the Anna who was protected from all harm. This was the Anna who treated everyone with fairness and kindness.
Out of the scarce times she encountered ill fortune, there was always a force guiding her through her pains--perhaps it was God; the days never troubled her with harsh rays of sunshine; the nights never wounded her with unkind reflections of solitude. She was a wild desert rose, gifted by God himself. Even if she had thrown herself into her own demise, there would still be hymns sung about her legacy. Even if she should trip and lose everything, it would still be gently washed into an old scar which people praised. Nevertheless, if that day should arrive, her life would be given meaning despite others being disregarded for their own uselessness. But I could not dare to dream about the same forbearance. I think that I really do hate her. She does not know the presence of God yet I saw God’s love in her. Even the invisible presence of fate is biased towards her. Every accomplishment of hers felt like a personal mockery towards me. I know that she did not mean any malice but to someone who continuously makes friends with wretchedness, her very existence felt like a personal provocation. If God was willing to extend kindness to her, why could he not have done the same for me? The ugly truth was that I had never wished so much anguish for anyone as I did for her; I rejoiced at every single possibility of her sinking in pain and I expected every inch of pain to inflict joy on me. I had never put this much attention on anyone. Sometimes I hoped that I could confront God and interrogate him. All because he lent his compassion to someone who doesn't love him. And yet this God allowed her to die.
I married her husband.
I wanted to know what her last years were like. We moved to their chateau. It was her home. I felt her presence everywhere and that comforted me. Everything was the way it was before her passing. She still had that perfume she always liked to wear. But then I saw those earrings. We gifted each other handmade earrings as a token of our friendship. She put them carefully inside of her jewellery box, where it was the most obvious. Had she thought about us in her last years? Although we didn't talk much about Anna, we both knew that the reason why we were married was because we reminded each other of her.
Then I met her daughter.
I froze when I first saw her.
She resembled her mother perfectly. So kind and so naive. Just like her mother. I would be taking care of her daughter while she rested in heaven. Whenever they ran around the garden, I always mistakingly saw the smaller Anna running in the fields. I took care of her because it was like taking care of Anna if she hadn't left me. When her father went on often business trips, I would take the girls to town, buy them new dresses and treat them to pastries and cookies. I felt like it was meant to be. My family was fragmented since the start and God formed me one that was complete. When her father returned home, I was glad to see them reunited. Then I heard them. They were a family. Years had passed yet I was still an outsider.
Realization hit me. Perhaps she was every bit just like her mother. Although she treated me as dearly as a sister, I was never fully included in her world. When she disappeared from mine, a part of it went missing but when I disappeared from hers, her life was still as complete. When I realized that, all of those feelings which I thought were subdued returned. Unlike the perfect Anna, I was vile and I vow to be every bit the cruel woman life has made me to be.
Anna's husband was not made to stay for long for he soon also passed away. I saw the girl crying, now motherless and fatherless as I once was. Perhaps she was similar to me in that manner. But as she collapsed from her own overwhelming emotions, I scoffed and turned away. Life without him has returned to way it was. I scraped to make ends meet and by the end, had no choice but to dismiss everyone.
When I saw her crying, I called her over. It reminded me of how I used to comfort Anna. I needed her out of sight and out of mind. I had her banished into the attic. Reality needs to be acknowledged and she is not her mother after all. But I was torn between complicated and unresolved feelings for Anna and those feelings manifested in the manner I treated her daughter. While I can't be too proud of it, I was used to it.
And when Ella stood in front of me and confronted me, I was surprised. But I would break her bit by bit, I would tear off all of the feathers on her wings until she was trapped in a cage and forced to sing for nobody else. But she was stronger than I thought. In a way, it resembled her mother's resilience. And when she held on to me and cried, I was frozen in place. Foolish foolish girl. Besotted with the idea of love.