Chapter 4: Princess and the Pauper

Prince and the Pauper was an online reality show that had managed to become infamous from negative marketing, the premise of it leading to article after article being written accusing it of sexism, but most people saw how exaggerated the articles were and didn’t take them that seriously. The show itself was low budget, each episode lasting a week as the two contestants were livestreamed most of the day living in a modest apartment. As the name suggested, one contestant was the prince, who lived luxuriously, and the other was the pauper, a woman who had to attend to the prince while living poorly.

Although it had a romantic element to it, the premise was intended to cause drama between the two. In particular, the prince would receive a prize if the pauper quit, and the pauper would earn rewards for every task she completed and those tasks required her to serve the prince, keeping the two together—there was no hiding in her room until it was all over.

However, there was a catch: if the pauper made it through the week, she would have her Cinderella moment. Dressed up like a princess, she and the prince would have a date from dusk to midnight and, if she could get the prince to kiss her, her prize would double.

It was hardly groundbreaking and, after the initial curiosity ran out, only attracted a niche audience. But it did well enough (and cost so little to make) that a second season was commissioned.

To keep things interesting, the second season swapped the roles and was titled “Princess and the Pauper”.

Given the relative success of the first season, the producer had a mountain of applicants to sift through—even after his assistant had filtered out those who didn’t meet beauty and age standards. After working for a couple of hours, he was happy with the tentative pairings for the first eleven episodes. For the last one, though, he wanted something special that would bring back the viewers, finishing the season with a bang. He knew better than anyone how lucky they were to get renewed considering how the first season had sizzled out by the end.

So he kept reading through the applications, looking for that spark. Eventually, he found it.

Or rather, them.

Amongst the “princesses”, he read one woman’s answer to the question about who had been her first love: “My best friend when I was twelve, but we were both girls and afraid of being different, so it didn’t last long.”

That part of the application was more for content when they filmed than selection criteria, but he had a sense of déjà vu reading it, and so put that application to the side as he searched. Halfway through the pile, he found what he was looking for and read who this other woman had put as her first love.

“A girl when I was twelve. We only ‘dated’ over the summer, but I still remember our short relationship.”

Even if they weren’t each other’s first loves, he had found the spark.

Months later on a Sunday evening, the two women in their mid-twenties were dressed up in their costumes, blindfolded, and then led into the apartment. They waited for the staff to leave (as they’d been told to) and counted to ten in their heads. Right on cue, the announcer—a disembodied, computerised voice—said, “You may remove your blindfolds.”

One dressed as a princess and the other as a pauper, they faced each other. The moment their blindfolds dropped, their eyes met.

Elle, in a ragged tunic and trousers, immediately covered her mouth as a name slipped out. “Mandy?”

Hearing that, Amanda said, “No way,” as she covered her mouth too. “Ellie?” she asked.

Elle nodded, moving her hands away to show a bright smile. “I, um, everyone calls me Elle these days.”

Amanda chuckled. “Yeah, I’m Amanda.”

They stared at each other for another long moment, and then their giddiness burst out, looking away as they chuckled and giggled. Elle recovered first and said, “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it’s you. This is, like, a dream.”

Amanda carefully wiped her eyes to avoid smudging the makeup. “Totally,” she said.

Slowly, they looked at each other again, and a broad smile came to both of them.

“What’re you doing here?” Amanda asked.

“Can I say money? But, well, my… niece heard about it, and she wanted me to be a princess. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d make it in,” Elle said.

Amanda nodded along, and then dryly said, “I hate to break it to you, but you’re not the princess.”

Elle giggled, rubbing her nose out of a bit of embarrassment. “If I make it through the week, then I can be, right? She’ll probably like it better this way—she loves Cinderella.”

“I’ll try not to swear too much so she can watch it, then,” Amanda said.

Bursting into another fit of giggles, Elle softly nodded. “Thanks.” After a moment of silence, she asked, “What about you?”

“My group of friends thought it’d be fun,” Amanda said.

Silence settled for a moment before Elle spoke up. “You’re not seeing anyone?” she asked, but already knew the answer.

Amanda shook her head. “To be honest, I’ve never really been in a serious relationship. You set a high standard for my future boyfriends, you know?” she said, ending on a light laugh.

Elle laughed along, but she had another question. “You’re straight? Didn’t they tell you about, um, me?”

“It’s just sorta easier being straight? I’ve had a few drunken kisses, but there hasn’t been a girl I felt like, you know, I had to date her?” Amanda said, sounding unsure.

“Then isn’t this gonna make things… not easy?” Elle asked.

Amanda waved her off. “You stop caring about these things so much, right? Like, so what if I’m bi? My friends will probably drag me to a gay bar after this for a coming out party, and they’re such sluts when they’re drunk they’ll probably get picked up by some girls there,” she said lightly, and then covered her mouth. “Sorry, forgot about your niece.”

Giggling, Elle shook her head. “It’s fine—she’ll watch on mute anyway,” she said.

Silence settled for a moment, and then Amanda asked, “What about you? I didn’t hear anything about you after you left for uni.”

“I guess I’m kinda the same as you,” Elle said softly. “Well, and the same as your friends,” she added, chuckling ironically.

Amanda looked around for the kitchen, spotting a fridge. “D’you think they have wine for us? Vodka, maybe?”

Elle winced as she kept in the laugh. “Oh you’re terrible,” she said.

Before Amanda could say anything else, the announcer said, “The princess and the pauper have had their fated meeting and their love at first sight has blossomed. However, can such a star-crossed love survive the harshness of reality? Only time will tell.”

So clearly signalled, they could only spare each other one last long look, accompanied by small smiles. “G’night,” Amanda said.

“Goodnight,” Elle replied.

The bedrooms were clearly marked and they each returned to their respective rooms. Following the theme of the show, Amanda’s room could have been in a posh hotel: a king-sized bed, covered in a thick duvet and cute pillows; a huge widescreen telly hanging on the wall; a mini fridge stocked with bottled water and tiny bottles of wine, as well as a hamper of fancy chocolates on top. That was to say nothing of the en suite bathroom, which had a huge bathtub built into the floor that doubled as a jacuzzi—it even played birdsong when the light was on, pleasant and masking any sounds.

In the other room, Elle was really unlucky. For the first season, the producers hadn’t wanted the women to quit on the first night, so the room had been plain but tolerable. However, since the paupers for the second season would be men, the producers had thought they could ramp things up.

It was barely better than a prison cell. The dark walls were painted to give the impression of damp, while the floor was covered in bumpy stone tiles that sucked the heat from her bare feet. For a bed, she had a camping cot, hardly any padding to it. Her en suite carried on that vibe, the toilet made of metal and the shower only able to go up to lukewarm, the water pressure little more than a dribble.

Yet she looked happy, sitting on the bed with a sweet smile.

The bedrooms also worked as a place for the show to talk to the contestants in private. So the announcer asked, “Why are you smiling?”

She jumped at the sudden noise, but caught herself quickly. Bowing her head, her smile turned shy as she stared at her feet, hands fidgeting. “I’ve already met the princess before, back when we were young,” she said, playing along with the show a bit. “We were friends.”

“Were you only friends?” it asked.

She bit her lip and then, after a long moment, shook her head. “The summer after our first year in high school, we were… something more than friends. I thought she was pretty—really pretty—and I knew enough about love to think I was in love with her. I wanted to kiss her and she let me, and she didn’t hate it.”

“What happened at the end of summer?” it asked.

Meanwhile, Amanda was having a similar conversation in her room, and had just been asked that same question. Her expression was softer than Elle’s, her smile more tender than happy and her gaze unfocused.

“When school started up, and our other friends saw us holding hands, they asked us if we were gay. I don’t know what school’s like now, but, back then, gay sorta just meant gross. It wasn’t really meant to be homophobic, or maybe it was and we didn’t know better. Anyway, everyone knew it was a bad thing to be gay, so… we kind of just acted like that summer never happened. Never told anyone, never talked to each other about it.”

“But you never forgot?” it asked.

After a few seconds, Amanda shook her head. “I liked Ellie, but I wasn’t really in love with her the same way, not at first. Still, she treated me nicely. We were kids who didn’t know how real relationships worked, but she was gentle and patient, made me feel special. I, I haven’t found someone else who treats me like that. Maybe it’s childish, but… I can’t forget.”

Silence lingered and slowly bled away the warmth in her expression until it was empty. Then she asked, “Can I forfeit? I don’t want her to, you know, suffer.”

The reply delayed by a frantic back-and-forth amongst the staff, the announcer finally said, “If you forfeit, she won’t be able to complete tasks and earn rewards.”

Part of the earlier conversation flashed through her mind: “Can I say money?” Elle had said.

Amanda swallowed the lump in her throat. After a moment, she asked, “Can we swap, then? I’ll be pauper and she can be the princess.”

“The roles have already been assigned and both contestants have agreed,” it said.

That night, the pauper slept well while the princess tossed and turned.

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The two were awoken early the next morning, but Elle’s alarm came an hour earlier. So, by the time Amanda emerged from her room, still half-asleep, Elle had already completed her first task: cooking breakfast. Only, it wasn’t her breakfast. Rather than the fluffy omelette, banana pancakes, sautéed cinnamon apple, and freshly-made fruit smoothie, Elle simply sat in front of a bowl of porridge—no sugar or butter added.

Seeing the table full of food, Amanda finally woke up. “Wow, it looks great,” she said. Her gaze crossed the table until she came to Elle’s breakfast, eyes widening. “Wait a sec—why….”

Elle gave her a wry smile. “Your breakfast is served, princess. I hope it will be to your taste,” she said, putting on a bit of a posh accent.

Never before had Amanda been so conflicted. Her stomach tied itself into knots in grief, knowing that Elle had worked so hard and yet couldn’t have any. Yet her nose didn’t care and made her salivate. Easily seeing the conflict, Elle giggled and then said, “Just eat it, okay? No point wasting it.”

Those words convincing, Amanda sat at the table and, tentatively, she brought the plates closer. But her guilt wasn’t so easily settled. “Are you okay with that?” she asked.

Elle smiled and nodded. “You know, most mornings I’m too busy to eat. Even when I do, it’s just leftovers,” she said cheerily.

Amanda honestly thought she would rather eat leftovers than that plain-looking porridge—there at least could have been blueberries in it. Still, her guilt couldn’t survive with Elle’s expectant look, and so her frame of reference changed from “Elle has to eat that” to “I get to eat Elle’s cooking”.

Not simply a mental change, she licked her lips as she turned her hungry gaze to the food in front of her. Her dilemma then became which to eat first. The pancakes and diced apple looking sweet, she chose the omelette.

“Ooh, that’s ham, cheese, and tomato,” Elle said.

Amanda couldn’t hold back any longer if she tried. In an instant, she neatly cut off a chunk and scooped it into her mouth. So airy, yet a touch runny at the edge. Her next mouthful from farther into the omelette, she had the airy outside, wet inside, accompanied by a hint of cheddar and a bite of tomato.

Slowly eating her porridge, Elle watched on happily as Amanda stuffed herself on the food. The sweet sight really did help the porridge go down.

By the end of the meal, Amanda was terribly bloated and yet without regrets, leaning back in the chair, rubbing her stomach. Every breath threatened to bring up the food, but the feeling gradually went away. After a couple silent burps, she felt like she could speak and so she said, “Thanks, Elle. It was delicious.”

No rest for the pauper, Elle was piling up the plates. “I can tell,” she said, smiling.

Amanda smiled back.

No dishwasher, Elle had to clean everything by hand after taking it back to the kitchen, and there were the various cooking implements too. Knowing better than to offer to help, Amanda stayed in her seat.

The two talked about their bedrooms while Elle worked. However, that topic only served to rekindle Amanda’s guilt, her heart aching. And when Elle said, “Honestly, I’m just happy I can sleep in peace,” Amanda honestly couldn’t tell if that was acting, but she couldn’t believe that Elle was in a situation where a peaceful night’s sleep was worth being happy for. Worse still, Elle sounded so genuinely happy to hear the other room was like a luxury suite—Amanda really felt like the wicked step-sister.

After that, their talking fizzled out. Although curious, Amanda was afraid to ask about what Elle had been up to since going to university, and she was conscious that Elle hadn’t asked any personal questions either.

An hour later, having given her time to digest the food, the announcer announced the next task for the morning. “After such a large feast, the princess needs to do some exercise to keep herself in royal shape. However, she can’t be expected to work up a sweat, so she will need some help.”

The two of them looked at each other in confusion, but the first part of the task quickly shed light on what was going on.

Lying down on the fluffy carpet, Amanda tried to clear her mind and ignore the small, soft hands grasping her leg, and she failed, feeling her cheeks heat up. While she left her muscles slack, Elle gently stretched her hamstring by lifting up her leg. “How is it?” Elle asked, worried.

“Embarrassing,” Amanda replied.

Elle giggled and took it to mean she could push a little further. “You’re pretty flexible,” she said.

“I do yoga. I don’t like it, but I do it,” Amanda said.

That brought out another tittering. After holding Amanda’s leg up for a few seconds longer, Elle lowered it back down. Then she did the other one. Amanda just lay there, not even allowed to hold down her dress, hoping she wasn’t flashing Elle—or the camera.

They did arm stretches next, and finished with Elle pulling Amanda up and forwards, making her touch her toes. Amanda was relieved that her breakfast stayed down.

“Now that the princess is warmed up, it’s time for a jog,” the announcer said, and Amanda felt her stomach drop before the “rules” were even announced. This task made with the pauper being a man in mind, Elle was expected to give Amanda a piggyback ride around the whole apartment.

Amanda looked at Elle. Their builds weren’t all that different, hardly a difference in height, yet Amanda thought there was no way Elle could manage. Back at school, Elle had been, to put it politely, delicate. She’d been the slowest at running and quickest to run out of breath, barely able to shoot and pass in netball. If it was the other way around, Amanda was confident in her strength, more than a few nights out ending with a friend who couldn’t be trusted to walk straight.

So she said to Elle, “You don’t have to.”

But Elle held up her arms, showing off her barely noticeable biceps, and said, “Let’s give it a shot.”

Faced with that, Amanda could only climb onto the couch and make a face that bordered on a wince. Elle got in position, standing confidently. After a deep breath, Amanda hooked her arms around Elle’s shoulders and moved her weight onto that delicate back. Every second, Amanda waited for the inevitable collapse.

But it didn’t come. With all Amanda’s weight on her back, Elle took a step forward. It was wobbly, Amanda panicking and squeezing tight for a moment, but Elle stayed calm, centred her balance.

The fright of the first step over, they slowly carried on. “Am I too heavy?” Amanda asked.

Elle chuckled, but it sounded strained, and her voice then came out breathless. “You’re super light. Really, you should eat more,” she said.

“Okay, don’t talk. Just, you know, don’t hurt yourself,” Amanda said.

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It took them a while and a short break leaning against the wall, but Elle managed a full lap before staggering to the couch, half-throwing Amanda onto it as she fell down. Amanda was back on her feet in an instant, checking on Elle.

“Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” she asked, finding Elle’s face to see if she was still alive.

Looking like a washed tomato, Elle couldn’t speak but nodded. “Fine,” she managed to murmur, sounding anything but to Amanda.

“D’you need a drink? I’ll get you some water,” Amanda said, and she went to stand up.

But Elle grabbed her hand, stopping her. Amanda stared back at Elle with a questioning gaze. For a while, Elle could only reply with an unconvincing smile, but eventually found her voice. “You’re the princess,” she said as if that was an answer.

Amanda clicked her tongue and then sighed, limiting herself to just sit on the floor and hold Elle’s hand. After a few seconds of silence, the announcer said, “Congratulations, the princess has successfully finished her exercise.”

“I’ll successfully finish your exercise,” Amanda grumbled to herself. Elle heard her and giggled, giving Amanda’s hand a squeeze.

A couple of minutes later, Elle had recovered enough to talk and stand, so she went to get a drink. Only water was available to her during the day, but it was cold and refreshing. As if taking pity on her, the announcer made no further appearances until lunchtime, expectedly asking her to cook lunch.

Unlike the morning, Amanda was around to watch this time. Used to the show now, her instinct to help only lasted a moment before fading away, unspoken. However, she made up for it with compliments.

“Did you learn to cook at uni?” she asked, admiring the way Elle neatly diced the quarter of an onion.

Elle hummed, the noise non-committal. “A bit, but my mum’s taught me a lot,” she said, her split focus not slowing down her knife. “Especially the last few years.”

“D’you like cooking, or just practising to be a good wife?” Amanda asked.

“Well, not really. It’s, you know, if you find the right recipes, you can cook stuff that’s cheap and healthy, right?” Elle said, not sounding too sure.

Amanda chuckled. “Like banana pancakes?” she asked.

Elle nodded.

Rather than ask about it more, Amanda fell into silence, just watching. She felt like Elle was avoiding something again, so she wasn’t going to push.

However, after Elle added the wine to the sizzling mix of onion, garlic, and rice, Amanda couldn’t stop her nose from talking. “God, that smells amazing,” she said.

Elle giggled, a light blush colouring her cheeks; whether that was from the compliment or the smell of wine in the air, no one knew.

But Amanda wasn’t finished. “Really, why don’t you come home and be my wife after this? Cook a couple of times a week and don’t make too much mess and I’ll be happy,” she said, the words coming out unthinking.

No doubt as to who was responsible this time, Elle turned a bright pink. It was enough to make Amanda realise she’d said something a little bit outrageous. But, in spite of how sudden it was, her heart was kind of okay with the proposal. Still, she knew it was too crazy to say that.

“I’ve got a lot of baggage, so…” Elle softly said, trailing off as she didn’t know how to finish.

Rather than deter Amanda, it made her half-forget that she was supposed to play off the wife-talk as a joke. “Well, I’m only using, like, one hand for my baggage, so I’ve got one spare to help with yours,” she said.

The way it came out, Elle couldn’t tell if Amanda was joking or flirting or both or neither. Said so evenly, it almost sounded like Amanda was talking literally and offering to carry her bags to the car, but Elle knew that Amanda wouldn’t have misunderstood. She really was at a loss, and she said as much. “I don’t know what to say.”

That having come after a few moments of silence, Amanda had returned to her senses. “Then just say we’ll keep in touch after the show.”

Elle showed a complicated expression, but she softly said, “Okay.”

Again finding that boundary, Amanda didn’t say any more. She had a feel for it now, though, understanding that it wasn’t just the past that Elle wanted to avoid.

After half an hour of silence, the risotto was finished. Like the breakfast, only Amanda got to eat it while Elle made do with instant noodles—she wasn’t even allowed to use the packet of seasoning.

Rather than another bout of exercise in the afternoon, the next task was a scavenger hunt. Of course, Amanda simply had to read out the list of items from a parchment (not dissimilar to a sheet of paper stained by used tea bags), and then Elle ran all over to find them in the allotted time. A long list, Elle looked ready to collapse by the end.

Although she didn’t get everything, the task wasn’t pass-fail, so she still earned a medium reward. The rewards came in two parts: money was added to her prize fund, and she earned a better outfit for her Cinderella moment. If she never passed a single task (including cooking meals), then her outfit would be the same as her pauper clothes: a plain tunic and trousers, no shoes. As she passed more tasks, she would gradually upgrade to an actual ballgown, high heels, accessories, and she could even earn up to three “fairy godmothers” who would do her makeup, hair, and nails.

Once again, it took Elle a few minutes to recover after the task, Amanda fretting the whole time that Elle had pushed herself too hard. Again forgetting her promise to watch her language, Amanda cursed out the show under her breath until Elle could talk.

The rest of the afternoon followed the theme of the show more. Elle was asked to pour wine and peel grapes, attending to Amanda’s every need (and several other needs the announcer decided Amanda had). When evening came, Elle cooked dinner for Amanda and then had a sandwich, a single slice of ham in it, no butter. However, she did get to wash it down with cheap beer.

Until lights out, they were left to entertain themselves, a few boardgames and a pack of cards amongst the things Elle had discovered during the scavenger hunt. So the first day ended in good spirits, both a bit tipsy as they fumbled through a game of (unbranded) letter tiles that earned points when placed onto a grid to form words.

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Over the next few days, Elle faced many tasks. The cooking tasks were easy enough for her, and she rather spoiled Amanda who was used to ready meals and takeaways, her microwave heavily used.

Some of the tasks were rather challenging, though. For one task, Elle had to prepare the princess for her royal portrait, running back and forth to a box of crown jewels, finding the right tiaras and such. Another task, she had to deduce which servants had stolen what by working through eyewitness testimonies.

While Elle struggled a bit with the more physically intensive tasks, she managed to do okay, and her results for the mental challenges were good.

There were also tasks that were more romantic tasks, there to help the Elle bond with the princess and be a bit funny. One time, she had to wash Amanda’s feet and then measure her foot size, another time she had to read aloud poetry (notably including a poem by Sappho), and another time she just had to hold Amanda’s hand while she had a “nightmare” during her afternoon nap.

Elle had no trouble with those kinds of tasks. In particular, they had been made with a man in mind and so Elle ruined some of the fun. After all, she wasn’t all that fazed by sorting through a drawer of women’s underwear, and she knew how to put on makeup.

When the final day came around, her prize fund and princess outfit were looking great.

“Tonight’s the night,” Amanda said over breakfast.

Elle smiled, nodding, her bland porridge tasting sweet.

The tasks for the day were particularly themed towards preparing the princess for the ball. In the morning, they had to do a couple’s game. Separated into different rooms, Amanda ranked a bunch of shoes, dresses, and brooches according to how much she liked them. While she did that, Elle had to choose one of each for Amanda to wear to the ball.

Elle’s rewards were based on how highly Amanda ranked the outfit she’d chosen, testing how well she knew Amanda. Although not perfect, she did well. The bright red high heels Elle chose were ranked fourth by Amanda, and the matching scarlet dress second (Amanda had preferred an off-the-shoulder style to Elle’s choice of sleeveless), and the ruby brooch was a top match.

Later on in the morning, Elle had a task to try and earn the final fairy godmother. Like the two other fairy godmother tasks, it involved beautifying Amanda and was, for Elle at least, difficult to fail. This time, she had to shave Amanda’s legs and armpits.

“How high am I shaving?” Elle asked, having knelt down in front of Amanda.

“How high d’you want to go?” Amanda asked.

Elle smirked, her gaze climbing up Amanda’s legs, settling on the crotch. “Brazilian or landing strip?”

“Oh my god,” Amanda said with a light slap on Elle’s shoulder, thoroughly scandalised. “Your niece is watching!”

Elle just giggled, fairly drunk on the mood they’d built over the week. While they carried on chatting, she had Amanda hold up her dress to the point it barely covered her knickers, and then got to work shaving. It was a lot easier shaving someone else’s legs than her own, she found. Once the stubble was gone, she moved on to the armpits, Amanda bright red and barely holding in her laughter at the ticklish sensation.

The final task for Elle was to cook lunch.

“I can’t believe this is the last time I get to eat your food,” Amanda said, moping on a worktop. “You have to invite me over at least once, okay?”

Elle smiled, but Amanda couldn’t tell if it was authentic, belatedly realising she’d crossed that hazy line again. “Okay,” Elle said.

With the ball in the evening, it wasn’t a heavy lunch for Amanda: spaghetti bolognese with a freshly made sauce (although Elle confessed she used sauce from a jar at home). As usual, Elle had instant noodles.

Once they’d eaten and relaxed for a few hours, it was time to get the princess ready for the ball. With the dress, shoes, and brooch Elle had picked out earlier, Amanda left the apartment, taken to a nearby dressing room to get properly dressed up.

As for Elle, she was treated to sad mood lighting and music as the announcer read off a Cinderella-like script. When that narration came to a stop, Elle played her part and loudly said, “Oh I wish I could go to the ball.”

A moment later, there was a light knock on the window. The curtains closed, she walked over to draw them open, jumping back in feigned fright.

“Who are you?” she asked.

Slightly muffled, the three drag queens replied in almost unison, “We’re your fairy godmothers, darling.”

So Elle proceeded to her makeover section. Tallying up her rewards, she had good choices for what to wear, everything from sexy lingerie to elegant ballgowns to a few pieces of gem-encrusted jewellery (though she did doubt the authenticity of the gems, seeming a bit glassy); the showrunner may have felt a bit bad over everything he put her through.

As for the “fairy godmothers”, perhaps because of their lifestyles they were actually rather skilled. Elle had been a bit uncomfortable at first, but quickly warmed up to them, very happy with the results. Once they finished up, she had a small dinner, eating carefully, her makeup checked afterwards.

Last of all, the two princesses had to travel to the ball. While everything had so far taken place in that apartment, they now rode in separate limos, going to a ballroom the show had reserved and filled with their friends and some random beautiful people (to make up the numbers). Although a traditional and elegant hall, the music and lighting gave it a modern vibe, not too different from a nightclub.

Amanda arrived first. In her vibrant red outfit, she rather stood out amongst the guests. Long legs emphasised by the tall stilettos, sleeveless dress tight-fitting, she cut a willowy figure that went well with her confidence, comfortable in those kinds of clothes. Her hair fell onto her shoulders in loose curls, looking silky and fluffy. Even if the other guests hadn’t been asked to dress a bit modestly, no one would have questioned who was the leading lady.

As if she didn’t already know, her friends quickly crowded her, gushing over how hot she looked. Everything from her manicured and painted toenails to her glittery maroon eyeshadow, they complimented it all.

A few minutes later, the front doors opened again.

In contrast to Amanda’s sexy look, Elle had an innocence about her, the long dress coming down to her ankles in a soft shade of pastel blue. Her hair was neatly done in an updo, the bun at the back held in place by a pearl-encrusted hair clip. Standing out amongst the other few bits of silver and white jewellery, she wore a thin black choker around her neck, a ruby dangling from it.

Amanda could only stare, entranced. After a few seconds, her friends gave her a push, snapping her out of it. But as she walked over, Elle caught sight of her and fell into a trance of her own.

With Elle in flat shoes, Amanda had the advantage in height and made use of it, coming right in front of Elle, making her have to look up. The sight of those eyes—opened wide, pupils dilated in the dim hall—was enough to make Amanda carnivorous. Her gaze fell, finding pink lips that looked so delicious she wanted to have a taste of them; she subconsciously licked her own lips.

As if Elle could read her mind, she quietly said, “If you kiss me now, the magic will go away.”

Those words were as much in character as real. Once the princess kissed the pauper, the show was over; they didn’t know what would happen afterwards, the episodes they’d seen never showing anything beyond the kiss (if there was one).

But Elle had another reason to say that, keeping it to herself.

Rather than the disembodied voice, the DJ acted as the announcer, saying over the music, “Would the princesses come on out for the first dance?”

A twinkle in her eye and smile on her lips, Elle said, “Lead the way.”

The high tempo beat faded into something slow and romantic, bringing them close together, swaying as their steps made a small circle on the floor. Deaf to the catcalls, blind to the world that wasn’t reflected in each other’s eyes, they danced, smiling. One song became ten, only the growing tiredness able to pull them apart. Even then, both kept a hand on the other, finding a quiet corner to sit down and sip champagne.

Going between dancing and drinking, the time ticked ever closer to midnight. A clock above the DJ kept them informed of that. As the digits flickered to “11:59”, Amanda readied herself to do what she had been aching to do since the moment she saw Elle.

However, Elle saw through her again, pleasant expression melting away. “You… shouldn’t kiss me. There’s, um, something…” she said, trailing off as she was unable to both explain and keep it secret.

“What, you’d hate it if I kissed you?” Amanda asked.

Elle quickly shook her head, and she said, “No, it’s not tha—”

Before she finished speaking, Amanda caught her. Lips, soft, cold, sweet with traces of wine as her tongue ran across them. Elle near instantly gave in, surprise replaced with guilty indulgence, a long moment of selfishness before her conscience and senses returned. Gently, she pushed Amanda away, reluctantly pulling back, trying to burn into her memory that kiss just like she had those kisses from over a decade ago.

Rather than upset, Amanda looked at her with a warm smile. Lost to the erupting cheers, she whispered, “I love you.”

Elle saw her lips move and guessed what they’d said, but she didn’t take those words to heart—couldn’t, not while she was holding back something so important.

---

Amanda stood in the car park, too nervous to care about the cameras pointing at her. She hadn’t seen Elle since they went their separate ways at midnight and, late morning now, she had a desperate fear that it really had been all a dream. Considering she was supposed to be the princess, that seemed a little backwards.

Regardless, she shuffled in place, glancing over at every sound. She had seen the same situation a handful of times from watching the first season, yet she’d never appreciated how nerve-wracking it actually was for the person waiting.

There was no more pretending. Elle had her prize money, no need to cook meals and pamper the princess. Whether that kiss had been their first or last was entirely up to her now.

The seconds dragging on to minutes, Amanda felt her eyes water, intrusive thoughts filling her mind with all kinds of conspiracies. She couldn’t believe that Elle had acted so sweetly purely for money, that the chemistry she’d felt wasn’t real. She wanted to believe in Elle. The Elle she’d met had been just like that Ellie from her childhood, the week they’d spend together just like that summer, and she wasn’t going to make the same mistake this time.

As if waiting for that, the door to the building opened. A cameraman stepped out first, walking backwards as the camera focused on Elle. But Elle wasn’t alone, a small hand holding hers, that child hiding behind her.

Amanda felt her tight heart finally relax. All her worry bled away, a mild giddiness pumped in to replace it. She couldn’t help but smile.

However, Elle still carried with her a heavy anxiety, every step difficult. When she was a stride away from Amanda, she came to a stop. Gently, she coaxed the child move to her side. Then she cleared her throat, yet it still felt constricted, hard to speak.

“Oh she’s adorable,” Amanda said, squatting down to look at the little girl.

“This… isn’t my niece, but… my daughter: Charlotte Amanda,” Elle managed to say. Her heart pounded in her chest, painful.

But Amanda hardly reacted to the words, having considered that this was Elle’s white lie before, not to mention it had been fairly obvious the moment Amanda saw the two walk out together. Hearing that middle name, though, she was touched, so glad to know that Elle really had remembered her.

Lost in that happiness, she spoke without thinking. “Really, you’re so cute—I just want to adopt you.”

“If you’re serious, she’s short one parent,” Elle quietly said.

Amanda gave little Charlotte one last look—pleased to see a small smile on that cute face—before looking up at Elle, smiling. “Where do I sign up?”

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