When the Stars Went Dark

“And they all live happily ever after.”

This was the last statement in almost every book my mother would read to me before bed. And the one she was reading to me right now was no different from the others.

I’m Roselyn Maye Morgan, or simply Rosie to most of my family. I just turned eight years old today.

I stood in front of my mirror, admiring how pretty I looked today. With my pale skin, brown eyes, and pinkish lips, the green off-shoulder cocktail dress paired with mint green sandals perfectly complemented my youthful features. My family was far from perfect, but what I loved most about my parents was that they always did their best to make me feel like a princess and that we were a perfect family. Together, we would live happily ever after, just like in the fairytales I read.

Just like Cinderella, I had a party and danced with my father, my prince, for the evening while my favourite strawberry ice cream and a giant sans rival cake were served. Everything seemed perfect as everyone danced, ate, sang, and celebrated until dawn.

Or so I thought it was…

I stared at my dark blue ceiling with glowing stars while listening to my mother’s angelic voice. It carried me into a peaceful meadow. I glanced to my side and met my mother’s brown eyes as she closed the book.

“I love you, Mommy,” I said in a sleepy voice.

“I love you too, honey,” she replied, kissing me on the forehead before placing the book on my mini bookshelf above my bed’s headboard. I was always astonished by my mother’s beauty. She walked with grace and elegance. She had brown hair and eyes, a pointed nose, and glossy rose-coloured lips. She looked like a queen, I imagined.

“Call Daddy for me, Mommy. I want to say goodnight,” I said before she left the room, calling for my dad.

Not a minute later, the tall figure of my dad silently entered my room, knocking softly on my bedroom door first. He gently sat on the side of my bed, softly brushing my long black hair.

“You called for me, honey?” he asked, lovingly looking straight into my eyes.

“Yes, Daddy, I just want to say goodnight and that I love you. Thank you for today,” I said, sitting up and giving him a tight hug, which he gladly returned. I always found peace in my father’s arms as he held me like I was the most precious thing he had.

He settled in a comfortable position beside me in bed. He sat on my left side with his legs stretched out and his back against the headboard. A smile painted my face as my father continued to stroke my hair and hum a song until my eyelids drooped and sleep overtook me.

This day may not have been perfect, but with my mom and dad by my side, everything felt enough.

Engulfed in all the protection, kindness, and fairytales they wrapped around me that day, I was truly happy. However, I never imagined that all those things could vanish with a single mistake.

One change, and I faced the harsh truth about reality the moment nightmares entered my life, replacing the dreams I had once held dear.

~

“You will not be turning your back on me, Rose! We’re going to talk about this right now!” My father shouted at my mother. His jaw was clenched, his fists were balled, and his eyes were teary as he confronted her just as she was about to enter their room.

“Let’s just separate, all right? I’m exhausted from all these stupid fights. I can’t tolerate you meddling in my life, Cedric. Our marriage was never right from the start. You’ve already gotten what you needed from me. I love Lyndon, and I want to be with him,” my mother said, her eyes glaring and her cheeks flushed with anger. What she said shattered both my father’s and my heart.

I stared at them, my heart clenched, as they fought like usual. The only difference now was that their arguments had grown deeper with each passing day. I was already fifteen years old, and my eighth birthday had been the last day I experienced a happy family. On the last day, this house, which I once called home, heard anything resembling laughter.

My parents’ marriage had been arranged from the beginning, but anyone with eyes could see that, in the middle of it all, they had fallen in love. I could feel it because I had grown up with that love. The same love that vanished, along with my belief in fairytales.

I had always believed that an arranged marriage wouldn’t matter in my family. For seven years, I had witnessed their fights grow from misunderstandings into doubts, and eventually into sharp words being exchanged between them. I always thought that one day they would fix it—that this was just a trial for our family. But only now did I realise that our problem was beyond repair.

How could anyone repair a relationship when there was already someone else in the picture?

I wished that my existence alone would suffice as an answer, but I guess I wasn’t enough. Because I stopped being their princess the day they began bickering with each other.

When I was twelve, my father would come home drunk, barely able to stand as he stumbled toward his bedroom, while my mother would rarely come home at all. It wasn’t until today that I solved the puzzle. He knew. For three long years, he knew my mother was cheating, and yet he tried to fight for their relationship alone.

“Rose, is that what you really want? A separation? Do you love him so much that you can leave me? I know we started off on the wrong foot, but we fell in love together. Please don’t do this. I love you, Rose,” my father begged, stepping closer to my mother, trying to wrap her in a hug. “If you can’t do this for me, at least do it for our daughter.”

He looked so fragile, his shoulders shaking, his red eyes a testament to his obvious tears. Never in my life had I thought that my father, who always portrayed himself as a strong man, would be this broken.

I stood in the corner of the room, below the staircase, watching my father beg my mother to stay while my mother struggled to break free from his embrace, which she finally succeeded in doing. Her face was red with anger as she looked straight into his eyes.

“Listen well, Cedric, nothing is going to change my mind. This marriage was always about money—money your family needed from mine! You’ve got it, so there’s no reason for me to stay,” she said, her voice cold and stoic, sending shivers through anyone who might have heard it.

Hearing my mother say she had someone else she loved—someone other than my father—and speaking as though I meant nothing to her broke my heart. But the agony I felt after witnessing what happened next is incomparable to anything I had ever experienced. There, I watched as the mother I once admired for her angelic beauty fell into her own pit of destruction.

After that dreadful day, I rarely left my room. Closed off from reality, I stayed in the comfort of my bed, staring into nothingness as endless tears flowed down my cheeks. Exhausted, I couldn’t even bring myself to shout or whimper. I was on the brink of falling into the oblivion of sleep when I heard something fall. I mustered the strength to get up and check where the sound had come from, my worry driving me forward.

As I turned the knob of my father’s bedroom, I realised maybe they never loved me as much as I thought they did. Because as I entered the room, I understood that I could never be the reason for someone to stay.

Covered in a pool of dark red liquid, I saw a lifeless body in the middle of the room, a sharp knife lying beside it. I stood frozen, my heart shattering into a million pieces as I realised how my life, as I knew it, had come to an end. The clock seemed to stop ticking as the deafening sound of sirens—probably from the police and ambulance—overwhelmed my ears. I saw people walking into our house in slow motion as dizziness overcame me, and darkness claimed my consciousness.