Even though Ella had already harbored hatred toward me, she began to show her rebellious attitude openly.
The girl no longer ate the meals I prepared. At breakfast and dinner, Ella would only take two slices of plain bread from the table, spread them with butter and strawberry jam, then immediately go back up to her room on the second floor. She had no intention of sitting at the dining table, chatting and eating together with me and my two daughters as the remaining members of her family.
She also never allowed me to enter her room. After Ella left for school, the room would be locked with a small padlock. The window was locked from the inside, covered by curtains. Like a Pandora's box that was forbidden to be opened by anyone.
I remember one day, the girl forgot to lock her bedroom door. In the afternoon, while she was still at school, I dared to go inside. It was dark. The smell of dust and dirty clothes immediately assaulted my senses. With my chest feeling tight, I pressed the light switch behind the door, letting the white light illuminate whatever kind of room this had become.
I had no bad intentions at all, Inspector. I entered that room purely out of curiosity and concern for Ella. I had no intention of stealing or damaging anything inside.
The room was filled with old belongings. An old bed, with sheets and pillows whose colors had faded with age. Deflated dolls, old toys gathered inside cardboard boxes. Picture storybooks neatly arranged on a study desk. Several photo frames. Little Ella in the arms of a young woman. Ella smiling brightly as she blew out birthday candles with that woman. Ella wearing a fairy costume standing beside a woman dressed as a witch on Halloween night. That woman, I was certain, was Ella's biological mother. The woman who once played the role of a mother in this house.
I had no ulterior motive. I just wanted to clean the room a little, while Ella was not around and the room was not locked. I understood that this room was Ella's small kingdom. A place filled with precious memories between her and her mother. It was only natural that she did not allow me or anyone else to enter. However, even so, I did not want that child living in a room full of dust.
All I did was sweep. Mop. Clean the dust on the window, remove the cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling. Tidy up a few things. As a mother, even a stepmother, I wanted Ella to live in a clean room, to sleep on a soft bed without biscuit crumbs or bread scattered on it.
I cared about her, Inspector. Very much. I had even come to see Ella as my own flesh and blood. But what did Ella give me in return?
After coming home from school, the girl approached me while I was cutting vegetables in the kitchen. She frowned, her round eyes burning with anger.
"Never go into my room again!" she shouted. "Never. Not even once."
I wanted to explain calmly. But Ella did not listen to me at all. That child was already consumed by hatred and anger. She said I should not be here, that I should not take her mother's place in this house. I should never have married her father. Her father's love should belong only to her mother, not to me. Then Ella also blamed me for her father's death. She said I was bad luck. A thief. She even accused me of marrying her father only to take his wealth.
I did not understand what was going on in that girl's mind.
In my heart, I asked myself. What did Ella feel when she saw our presence in this house? Had I failed to become a good mother figure for her?
Was I really that terrible in Ella's eyes?
When I thought about it that way, I felt like leaving this house altogether. I wanted to return to my old home, to live as three again. Me, Anastasia, and Drizella, my sweet daughters. I wanted to build a family consisting only of us, who cared for and loved one another.
But I could not leave Ella alone.
I could not bear to let a girl like Ella live all by herself. With no one by her side. No family. No one who loved her. I could not. After all, she was still my stepdaughter, the daughter of my late husband.
I had to endure, I told myself. I reassured myself once again. It was only a matter of time before Ella could accept me as part of her family.
Ella was still a teenager. Her emotions were still unstable. She had lost the mother she loved the most. Then her father. Ella had faced many difficult days. It was not strange for her to be angry at me. Besides, I had entered her private space without permission.
I had to think more positively. I had to see further ahead. Next month, there would be a school dance. Prom night, perhaps you are more familiar with the term.
Maybe this was an opportunity I could take to soften Ella's heart, I thought. As a teenage girl, Ella must be eagerly anticipating that event. She would surely want to look beautiful, more beautiful than her friends. A teenager who wanted popularity, dancing under the moon, surrounded by stars and small candles. Wanting to be the center of attention.
Like watching the sunrise, I saw that there was still hope.
What did Ella need to go to the dance? How could that girl look beautiful?
Basically, Ella already had an attractive face. Her round eyes that sparkled like glass marbles, her long eyelashes, her small nose, paired with thin lips and a slender face shape. Her body proportions could even be called perfect. Her long legs matched the curves of her body.
Ah, yes. Come to think of it, it really was similar. Do you know, Inspector? My grandfather once gave me a music box as a birthday present. Even though now I no longer care much for the melody that plays from that music box, I still remember there was a small ceramic figurine that danced when the box was opened. A princess wearing a ball gown, spinning along with the tune. Just like Ella. That was what I thought back then too.
That was why I bought the glass shoes for her.
In an antique shop, I accidentally saw them. The glass shoes were displayed on a shelf near the window, shimmering under the sunlight. As if under a spell, I entered the shop. The small bell above the door chimed as I stepped closer to the shoes. Up close, they looked even more beautiful. More radiant. More perfect.
Ella, whose beauty resembled the ceramic figurine in the music box, would surely suit those glass shoes.
I could imagine them on Ella's small feet. The perfect size would not trouble her when wearing them. Then she would smile sincerely at me, thank me in her heart, and hug me while still wearing the shoes. I imagined that while smiling to myself. I truly hoped for it, that Ella would open her heart to me, her stepmother.
Confidently, I brought the shoes to the shop owner, intending to buy them. The old man, around seventy years old, said that the shoes were quite expensive, and that was true.
I had expected it. Shoes that beautiful could not possibly be sold cheaply. They were antiques, with high artistic value. Just by looking at the small floral carvings on the sides of the glass shoes, I could calculate that the price must be as costly as diamonds. Moreover, the man also said that there was only one pair of glass shoes like that in the world.
When the shop owner mentioned the final price, I hesitated slightly. Would Ella like those glass shoes? With the money left by my late husband, I could buy them for her. But would Ella be happy? Would her heart truly soften if I bought such expensive shoes for her?
I thought, there was no harm in trying.
Ella would like them. Ella would like them. Ella would like them. She would. She would like them. After reassuring myself over and over again, I finally decided to buy the glass shoes.
The shop owner smiled widely as I nodded and took out several bills from my wallet. "Good decision," he said.
I hoped so too. I hoped I would not regret this decision later.
At a boutique not far from the antique shop, I bought a dress. To match the glass shoes, I bought a blue dress for Ella. A Victorian-style gown, with an off-shoulder design, made of a blend of crepe silk and polyester, and a long skirt with several layers. The best dress in the boutique.
I wanted to buy the same dress for Anastasia and Drizella, but the shop assistant said that it was a special dress. There was only one. Instead, I bought different dresses for my daughters. Red for Anastasia, and yellow for Drizella. Their favorite colors.
They would surely like them, I thought.
When I arrived home, Drizella greeted me and opened the door for me. My kind-hearted daughter helped carry my shopping bags while constantly asking questions.
"What's inside, Mom?" Then, "Oh, clothes? That's unusual, Mom buying this many clothes." Then, in disbelief, "Huh? Dresses for a dance party?"
I could not hold back my smile when I saw my daughter looking so happy.
We sat on the living room sofa. I placed my shopping bags on the table, and one by one, the dresses came out.
"Anastasia, Mom bought dresses for us!" Drizella shouted, calling her sister who was in her room.
Immediately, Anastasia's bedroom door opened. Her smile was full of enthusiasm as she hurried down the stairs, approaching us while repeatedly asking, "Where? Where? Where's my dress?"
As expected, my two daughters looked delighted. They immediately tried them on, dancing and spinning around, showing off their beautifully flared skirts. But what about Ella?
Ella was in her room, with the door locked from the inside. I knocked twice, three times. I called her name. There was no answer. She deliberately ignored my calls. I was used to it, and I had actually expected this.
"Mom bought new shoes and a dress for you, Ella." As gently as possible, I tried to coax her. "Here. Try them on. They'll definitely suit you."
But Ella still did not open the door.
Long.
Very long.
I stood in front of the room at the end of the stairs, continuing to knock, continuing to call Ella's name. The longer it went on, the less I could endure it. The knocking I made with the back of my hand grew louder with each passing minute, as did my increasingly impatient tone.
"Ella." I did not know how long it took until the girl finally opened her door, clicking her tongue, glaring at me from within the shadows.
"What?" she snapped. "You're so noisy."
I knew there was no point in making small talk, especially with Ella's attitude toward me. Holding my breath, I handed her the shopping bag containing the glass shoes and the dress.
The girl fell silent for a moment, squinting as if suspicious. Carefully, she reached out, took the bag, and examined its contents. Her slender fingers traced the fabric, lifting the dress in front of her. I thought Ella would like it. It was the best dress I had chosen for her. Unfortunately, she did not. The faint smile I had imagined would only remain a fantasy. What Ella gave me was merely a crooked smile, far from satisfied.
"I don't want to wear a dress like this," she said, shaking her head without looking at me. She immediately put the dress back into the bag.
Then the shoes. The glass shoes that I felt suited Ella so well were rejected outright.
"What kind of stupid shoes are these? They're so weird." This time, Ella glanced at me. "There's no way I'm going to a dance wearing tacky shoes like these."
"Just try them," I gently tried to persuade her. "They'll look good. They'll definitely fit your feet." But I felt it was useless.
"No." Ella remained stubborn. "I don't want to wear that weird dress and shoes. Absolutely not."
The girl stepped back into her room. Nearly closing the door. I tried to hold the door before it completely shut. But unfortunately, it was in vain. With a bit of force, Ella managed to push me away. The paper bag containing the dress and glass shoes slipped from my hands. Its contents scattered across the floor.
Perhaps because she heard the sound of me falling, Drizella, who had been happily trying on her new dress in the living room, suddenly rushed upstairs, calling my name in panic. I could hear my daughter's footsteps as she climbed the stairs, until she arrived in front of Ella's door.
"Hey!" she shouted, accompanied by loud banging on the door and curses. "Bastard. How dare you...!"
"That's enough, that's enough." While trying to stand back up, I calmed Drizella. "It's okay."
Drizella turned to me, looking at me with sympathy, then shook her head deeply. "Ella needs to be taught a lesson, Mom." With her hand still banging on Ella's bedroom door, my daughter continued. "Mom shouldn't let herself be treated like this."
Compared to Anastasia, who was obedient, Drizella was indeed a bit rough. She had a blunt mouth, unable to hold back her emotions. But Drizella was still my good daughter. She only wanted to defend me. That was all.
After several curses, there was no response from inside the room. Ella's room was locked. Drizella tried to open it, but she could not.
Anastasia, who was on the lower stairs, only watched, staring with a pale face. My daughter was frightened. Family arguments like this were not something her fragile heart could accept.
Gently, I held Drizella's right shoulder, which she was using to bang on the door, telling her to stop. "Enough, Drizella."
The girl resisted for a moment, but it was futile.
"Let's go downstairs," I ordered. "It's almost dinner time. Come on, help Mom cook."
Reluctantly, Drizella obeyed. I held her hand as we went down the stairs.
It felt strange to think back on that incident. Drizella said that I should have been firmer with Ella. That Ella had gone too far. That the girl needed to be disciplined. Punished.
I only realized it recently.
I should have considered Drizella's advice. I should have punished Ella, given her a warning. Ella had crossed the line. I should indeed have been harsher, instead of spoiling her with the excuse of "wanting to grow closer and soften her heart." I knew I should not have treated Ella so specially.
What was the meaning of my kindness if Ella never acknowledged my existence at all? Everything I gave her never meant anything. If anything, it felt like Ella hated me even more.
Spreading gossip about me and my daughters at school. Accusing me of acting cruelly toward her. Lies upon lies that she fabricated.
Do you know, Inspector? It was not only me who suffered the consequences, but my daughters, Anastasia and Drizella, were also treated badly because of those false rumors.
Ella spread lies about my daughters. She said that Anastasia was also cruel to her. Often jealous and envious. That Anastasia had deliberately taken her belongings. That Anastasia kicked Ella out of her room and forced her to move to the storage room. Anastasia forced this. Anastasia forced that. Annoying. I even heard gossip saying that Anastasia had the heart to burn the dress left behind by Ella's biological mother.
What kind of horrible lie was that? Anastasia was my good daughter. I raised and protected her since she was little, and I knew she would never do such a cruel thing.
The same went for Drizella. The bad gossip about her was nothing more than lies.
Drizella the glutton, who ate all the food on the dining table without leaving any, even stealing Ella's dinner portion. Drizella the messy one, who threw food wrappers everywhere and refused to clean them up. Drizella the lazy one, whose bad breath made people nauseous. Drizella this. Drizella that. Drizella who deliberately spilled her soup onto Ella's clothes. Lies. All of it was lies.
That lying girl, Ella, truly deserved to die.
My two daughters, who were completely innocent, suffered because of her.
Can you imagine, Inspector? Because of Ella, Anastasia, my daughter who used to be cheerful, once intended to end her own life.
***