I think I'm almost six months old now. Our blessing ceremony should be just around the corner—two or three more days, and we're out of here.
I have to tell you this: we can all roll over now! Pretty fast too, right? Elanor says I should thank my parents for that. So, thank you, parents.
Surprised I'm speaking so lightly after that sad episode with Alice? Well, I haven't told you everything yet.
That conversation with Alice was… something else. A kitten brandished her claws at me just because I didn't give her enough attention.
Think I'm being rude? Maybe. But I've got to protect my own sanity before I start worrying about others, you know?
Ugh...
Headpieces, accessories, ribbons, frills—pause. Just stop. My almost six-month-old body is tired, and I'm mentally drained.
Maya...
Sigh...
When Alice looked away, I couldn't hold it in anymore. The dam broke. I burst into tears. It was as if all the pressure I'd been holding in finally caught up to me. I have to admit, I vented pretty badly. My sisters—who had been so kind and supportive—were behaving differently lately, and I didn't understand why.
Flashback:
She walked away without another word, and I was left sitting there, stunned. Tears streaked my face. It hurt, but maybe I needed that wake-up call. I guess I got a little too full of myself. It was never just about me.
As I sat in silence, the moonlight streamed through the window, casting shadows across the room. I stared at the ceiling, thinking about Maya, about my sisters, and about what Alice had said.
Cassiopeia's words echoed in my mind: You will meet her soon.
Right. It will all get better when Maya is here. I just have to hold on a little longer.
But no... I can't. I've had enough.
I couldn't stop the flood of emotions anymore. The dam broke, and I broke with it. I don't even know how long I cried or what I said, but by the end of it, all my sisters were around me, trying to calm me down.
They had just experienced their first crawl, but nobody was in the mood to celebrate it.
Before I blacked out from exhaustion, I think I heard Alice whisper, "I'm sorry."
And that made me feel a little better.
End of flashback.
Alice's POV:
We were wrong.
From what we already knew, Cordelia was essentially a commoner in her world. Moreover she was an orphan, I can't imagine how hard life must have been for her.
I also realized how much Cordelia genuinely wanted to be one of us. I was happy about that—her feelings were so pure and genuine. But maybe I took her for granted. I treasure this sweet girl, and she reminds me of the family I lost. Did I assume her presence was a given? I think I did.
That was a mistake.
None of the others had noticed it, but I had. Cordelia was feeling left out. And I let it happen. Genuine people are rare—something I've learned the hard way.
I've already beaten myself up for choosing people who pleased me over those who genuinely cared for me. After all what had I received in return? Betrayal.
I can't be making the same mistake again. Did I go lax just because I thought I had another chance?
After my outburst, Cordelia—who had been holding on so tightly—finally broke.
Maya. I still don't like that name. Who is this person she loves so much?
She trembled as she sobbed uncontrollably.
"I never wanted to be here. I'm doing my best too," she cried.
"I had no one. She was my everything."
"She is my sanity, my solace, my darling."
"Maya, Maya…"
"I don't need to be involved in your struggles, but I still want to. Because I thought we could be a real family."
"I've always wanted one. So I thought, maybe… just maybe…"
"I always felt a wall between us. I wasn't in your past. I felt left out too."
"I was so sad… I miss Maya."
"And… and I don't have anything to do with your past or your world. Why do you think I've stuck around, listening to your plans and schemes?"
"I never knew she felt this way," Elanor mumbled beside me.
Of course you didn't, Elanor. You're too used to giving orders. You're not bad at understanding others' emotions, but you don't read them all the time—like I do.
Dorothy and Iris were already crying alongside Cordelia by now.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. It was all I could manage in that moment.
Cordelia had been holding all of this inside for too long. Maya was the last thread connecting her to her previous world. It wasn't just about missing someone—it was about missing her sense of belonging, her sanity, her identity.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized how much we'd isolated her. We didn't mean to, of course, but our shared history, our focus on the struggles we faced… it left her feeling like an outsider.
She wanted to be part of our world, but at the same time, she had her own pain to deal with. And while we had each other, she only had Maya.
Cordelia's POV:
I didn't realize it then, but my sisters had noticed how much I was struggling.
I hadn't just been mourning Maya's absence—I was mourning everything I'd lost. My old world, my independence, my freedom. And on top of that, I'd been trying so hard to fit in with them, to be part of their world.
But I'd been feeling more like an outsider every day.
I always thought that since I wasn't part of their past, I didn't belong in their present. That I was intruding on something sacred.
But after I broke down, after Alice said she was sorry, I realized they did care. They might not have understood what I was going through, but they were trying. In their own way, they were trying.
And I appreciated that more than they knew.
As the moonlight filtered through the window, I finally felt a sense of relief. The weight I'd been carrying—of missing Maya, of feeling out of place, of not knowing where I belonged—had lightened, even if just a little.