Their Mistake Her Rise Novels & Stories

"Someone they should have never underestimated." I turned sideways, watching the dress move with me. Watching her move with confidence I'd never felt. The old Sera was dead. The woman in the mirror? She was just getting started. That night, I practiced walking in heels. Back and forth across my living room, holding onto furniture at first, then gradually letting go. By midnight, I could cross the room without wobbling. I practiced speaking without apologizing. Stood in front of the mirror and said things I'd never dared say aloud.

But this morning, her voice lacked its usual spark, her delivery halting—repeating things she had already said without even realizing it. “Miss Althea?” a student in the front row raised a hand hesitantly. “Earlier you said twelve minus five was seven... but just now you said five?” Althea flinched slightly, blinking as guilt swept over her. “Oh… I’m sorry, I lost focus for a moment,” she admitted with a tight smile. “You’re right. What I said earlier was correct—seven. That last one was a mistake. I apologize.” A few students giggled softly. One or two leaned toward each other, whispering in mild surprise. It wasn’t like Miss Althea to slip up. She was always sharp—always precise.

Someone who knew the truth. Her stomach twisted. She wasn’t even supposed to be there. She wasn’t supposed to meet anyone. She wasn’t supposed to be in that path. Everything, her coma, her missing years, hee life now, wasn’t fate at all. It was a mistake. A terrible, deadly mistake. Her breath hitched sharply. “I lost everything because of a mistake that sent me to the wrong place… because someone else thought I was her.” Before she could completely break down, a warm, steady hand touched her arm. Another slid gently across her waist. Asher.

" She had gone to the bank one day, and it so happened, to be the day some robbers decided to rob that bank. It turned out to be a robbery gone wrong, and she, amongst a few others, unfortunately didnt get out alive." My knees feel weak, hearing all of this. My body feels heavy and overweighed, by the all this. I sit back down on the bench, trying to calm my breathing. I feel so dizzy all of a sudden. "I never wanted people to view her from the mistake ---------" " Mistake?" My head whips to her. " That's not what I meant. I'm just trying to explain that she did something wrong, yes, but the circumstance she was under --------"

What if she messed up completely? "I really ought to have dressed more formally." She was thinking to herself. She deeply regretted being dressed in a short denim skirt and a white top without sleeves. But if she had been dressed in something more formal, they might have misunderstood her and thought that she was going to be a very bossy bitch. A number of ladies smiled at each other in amusement. She chuckled to herself as she realised that she was now the joker of the group. What a fantastic way to establish her reputation!

Her body was already getting tired, but she could not afford to stop running now. She kept running down the quiet street, and just when she thought of slowing down to catch her breath, she missed her steps and fell, rolling down the slope. She grunted in pain as she looked at her bruised hands and legs. Her whole body was now very dirty, and she looked like she was just fished out of the dirt. She pulled her weak body up and started raining insults on Fred for putting her in this situation for something so trivial as tears pricked down her face.

The reporters leaned forward, their pens poised, eager for her next move. “I’m here today to address what’s been said about me,” she continued. “Yes, I’ve made mistakes. I’m not perfect. But I’m also not the person they’re trying to paint me as. I’ve worked hard to get to where I am, and I won’t let anyone take that away from me.” A murmur rippled through the room, and Isabella felt her confidence grow with each word. This was her moment. Her time to turn the tide. “Now, I’m not here to apologize for the things I’ve done. But I will say this: I’m human. And I’ve learned from every single misstep. Every mistake I’ve made has shaped me into the woman standing before you today.”

Live. "My name is Rose Hilton; I'm twenty-two years old... Uhm, I was born into the most righteous family." I chuckle nervously. "From birth, I... uh, I have been prepared and groomed for the position of moral ambassador, and in one day I blew it off." Comments are coming in; I do not read them. "I made a mistake." I pause for a while to reflect on my life. "I've been taught to believe in purity, in following the rules, but I've learned that I can't grow without mistakes, and... I can't live my life forever by people's standards."

The seventh day had begun with silence, but it did not last. By the time the sun had climbed above the spires of Whitestone, word had spread like wildfire, Amelia Grace, the untouchable heiress confined to a bed for nearly ten years, had risen and walked on her own two feet. The miracle had not been wrought by the famed specialists of IMSAEB, nor by Reginald Caldrick’s pompous council of so-called authorities. No, it was Arla-Rosa, the young woman dismissed as “the eastern apprentice,” who had done what none of them could.

What they must think of me, and even if it’s not true it’s going to scar me for the rest of my life. How did everything go so wrong? How did I go from having the perfect day of my dreams to a scene right out of a bridal nightmare? I can’t answer him, I can’t. So I dip my head and allow the shame to wash over me, falling around my shoulders like a shawl. His eyes go from timid anger to betrayed rage in a second and the next thing I see, his phone hits the ground and shatters into a million pieces. That earns us another round of gasps and tongue clicks.