Cruel Love

Chapter 1

Aria stirred to a symphony of birdsong, a melody so unknown to her usual reality that it jolted her fully awake. Peering through the grime-coated windowpane, she was met with a peaceful sight. The sky, usually a canvas of brooding grey, was adorned with billowing clouds like cotton ships sailing on an azure sea. It was a scene of such unexpected peace that it felt like a cruel joke in stark contrast to the turmoil that constantly raged within her life. A yearning, fragile as a spiderweb, bloomed in her chest, longing for her life to mirror the peaceful tranquility outside.

With a sigh that escaped her lips like a wisp of smoke, Aria threw back the thin covers. Her room resembled a cluttered storeroom more than a sanctuary. A single, ornately framed mirror hung lopsided on the wall, its reflective surface offering a glimpse of her own weary reflection and the limited view afforded by the cracked window. Clothes, a jumble of memories from happier times, overflowed from a worn, leather suitcase that had belonged to her late mother. It served as a constant reminder of the life she'd lost and the lack of a proper wardrobe, a luxury her stepmother deemed unnecessary.

Downstairs, the aroma of breakfast, a tempting blend of sweet cinnamon and savory sausage, wafted through the air, in contrast to Aria's usual fare of burnt toast and lukewarm cereal. It was a cruel reminder of the privileges her stepmother, Melisa, and her daughter, Loren, enjoyed. They were the undisputed royalty of this house, their every whim catered to by Aria, who toiled invisibly in the background.

Both emerged from their rooms, faces etched with proudness, their demands barking like orders from a drill sergeant. Aria scurried around, setting the table, her practiced movements a silent rebellion against the struggle that fueled their comfort.

"Clean my room today," demands Melisa as she chomps on her pancakes. Aria's cooking is top-notch, having perfected her skills since her early teens. "Also, make sure to wash my dirty clothes today," her stepsister Loren adds while typing on her phone. Aria wishes she could live as carefree as Loren, going to school and having a vibrant social life.

A hollow ache gnawed at Aria's heart, a yearning for a life she could only dream of. The education Melisa claimed they couldn't afford, the carefree laughter that spilled from Loren's phone calls. All felt like distant galaxies, forever out of reach. Her own happiness, once a vibrant flame, had flickered and died with her mother, extinguished completely by the harsh realities that followed her father's passing. The world, once a place of possibility, had shrunk to the suffocating walls of this house, a cage with no escape in sight.

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With a sigh that rattled the chipped mugs in the drying rack, Aria tackled the mountain of dirty dishes left behind by her stepmother and stepsister. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, a constant companion in this house. She salvaged the scraps of last night's dinner, a meager reward for her servitude.

Glancing at the clock, Aria saw the hands creeping closer to the hour she needed to leave for her part-time job. Steeling her nerves, she knocked tentatively on Melissa's door. A muffled "Come in" filtered through the wood.

Pushing open the door, Aria found Melissa sprawled on a chaise longue, a magazine draped carelessly across her lap. "I've finished everything you asked for," Aria began, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's almost time for my shift."

Aria had to earn her own money because Melissa told her she didn't have any money to cover her expenses. Unfortunately, Aria wasn't aware that Melissa and Loren were spending the money her father had left behind for her.

Melissa barely flicked her eyes away from the glossy pages as she drawled, "Remember, Loren's friends are coming over for dinner. Make sure you have a good meal prepared."

"Okay," Aria mumbled, the word barely escaping her lips. With a defeated slump in her shoulders, she slipped out of the room and closed the door softly behind her. The memory of a different Melissa flickered in her mind. A Melissa who had swept into their lives with promises of a new family, a warm hug, and whispered assurances of "being her mommy forever." That first day Melissa came home, it was like a ray of sunshine pierced through the storm clouds that had been hanging over their house. Aria had never seen her father smile so genuinely since her mother's passing. Grief had aged him, etched lines on his face that hadn't been there before. When he introduced Melissa, a woman with warm eyes and a gentle smile, Aria saw a flicker of hope. The idea of a new family, a chance to heal together, filled her with a desperate yearning. Blinded by that hope, she readily agreed when her father asked if they could all live together.

But time, a cruel teacher, stripped away the illusion. Melissa's kindness, so readily displayed in front of her father, dissolved like morning mist once he was gone. The woman who doted on Aria in his presence transformed into a stranger, a harsh taskmaster who saw Aria as nothing more than a servant.