Chapter 1: Finstas and Red Flags
My girlfriend used her finsta to post: "Does a princess have to marry a prince? Maybe the knight is actually her true destiny."
Tch. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood. The word was sharp, but it didn’t cut deep enough. I didn’t care if she wanted to be a princess, but since when did princesses sneak around behind the prince’s back at midnight, sending flirty DMs to the knight?
The phone screen glared back at me in the dimness of my bedroom. Her caption was out there for the world, but only those who knew her could decode what she really meant. God, she loved her drama—like our lives were a Netflix series and she always cast herself as the main character. I scrolled through the comments, the blue light reflecting in my tired eyes, thumb going numb from scrolling, half-expecting one of her friends to drop a line about glass slippers or destiny. Instead, there was just this low ache in my gut, one I tried to ignore by scrolling, scrolling, scrolling.