Is Erella Sick?

“Erella, are you not sleepy yet?” Tubby, the plump little mouse, asked, rubbing his drowsy eyes as he yawned. His round belly rose and fell beneath his tiny blue vest, and his whiskers twitched sleepily.

Erella turned toward him, smiling softly. The three mice—Tubby, Eddy, and Suzy—were already curled up on the edge of her bed, snuggled together under a scrap of cloth she’d sewn into a blanket. When she first woke up in this world, the sight of them had sent her into a screaming fit. She had always been terrified of rats and mice back on Earth. But these three… they weren’t ordinary.

Their fur gleamed, their tiny clothes were neatly patched, and their bright, expressive eyes made them look more like living dolls than pests. After spending a few days with them, her fear had melted away completely. Now, she couldn’t imagine her new life without them.

“I’ll sleep after I fold my clothes,” she said with a small grin. “You, Eddy, and Suzy should go ahead and rest.”

Tubby blinked up at her. “Are you sure you don’t want my help?” he asked, trying to stifle another yawn.

“It’s okay.” Erella chuckled. “There are only a few more left. You can help me tomorrow.” She patted his soft head affectionately and tucked him back under the tiny blanket.

“Goodnight, Erella,” he murmured, already halfway asleep.

“Goodnight, my little hero,” she whispered, tucking the edge of the fabric near his chin before standing.

The candlelight flickered gently as she turned back to the small pile of laundry. Her fingers worked automatically, folding each worn piece with practiced care. But her mind… her mind was far from calm.

It had been over a week since she—Sandy from Earth—had woken up inside this fairytale as Erella, the supposed Cinderella of this world. Every night since then, she found herself questioning everything.

A sigh escaped her lips. “A week,” she muttered to herself. “Seven days of pretending I’m this sweet, obedient girl who can’t even raise her voice.”

At first, she had refused to accept it. How could she—someone with a fiery temper and zero tolerance for cruelty—play the role of a doormat? But what could she do? This body was weak and fragile, and she was surrounded by three vile women who treated her like a servant.

The only hope she had, just like in the original story, was the prince—the so-called saviour who would whisk her away from misery.

But…

Her hands froze mid-fold. The word but echoed in her head like a bell. She took a deep breath, slowly exhaling before lifting her gaze to the mirror beside the bed.

Her reflection looked back at her—pale, delicate, and painfully young.

She leaned closer. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she whispered.

Her voice rose. “How come you look like you’re only ten years old, Erella? You’re supposed to be sixteen! For goodness’ sake—how can the prince fall in love with you looking like this?”

She grabbed the dress in her hands and clenched it tightly. “He’ll think I’m a child! Gosh! This isn’t the Erella I saw on TV—she was tall, graceful, and curvy in all the right places! This is… this is fraud!”

She was halfway through her frustrated rant when a sharp pain shot through her chest. “Urgh! Darn it!” she gasped, pressing her hand to her heart. The pain throbbed beneath her ribs, constricting her breathing. “You’ve got to be kidding me—this body has heart disease too?!”

Gritting her teeth, she stumbled toward the chair and sat down, panting softly. “Calm down, myself. Calm down,” she whispered over and over until her breathing slowed.

After several minutes, the tightness in her chest faded. She exhaled shakily. “Geez,” she muttered, pressing her palm against her heart. “I really need to control my emotions.”

She had noticed this strange condition days ago. Whenever she got angry, scared, or startled, her chest would twist painfully—like something inside was trying to burst free but couldn’t. Yet, when she worked all day, scrubbing floors or doing chores, she felt fine.

Only her emotions seemed to trigger it.

It didn’t make sense. None of it did.

“I don’t remember Erella having this kind of illness in the story,” she murmured, brows knitting together. “My friend back on Earth told me everything about the plot—there was no heart disease, no weird pain, and definitely no child-sized heroine.”

She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm… did I reincarnate before the story actually began?”

Her eyes narrowed. “But no… the story started when she was six. She’s supposed to be sixteen now.” She frowned, frustration bubbling again. “Something’s not right. Maybe… maybe I’m in a different version of the story?”

The thought made her pause. Then she shook her head quickly. “No. That can’t be. All the people I’ve met—the stepmother, those awful sisters, even the mice—they’re all straight out of Cinderella.”

She stared into space for a moment, then groaned. “Arghhh! I don’t want to think about it anymore!” she burst out, throwing her hands in the air.

The sudden yell startled someone behind her.

“Hmmm… Erella?” a tiny voice mumbled sleepily.

She turned and saw little Suzy rubbing her eyes. The small mouse blinked up at her, her yellow frock wrinkled from sleep.

“Ah, sorry, Suzy,” Erella whispered, quickly kneeling beside her. “Did I wake you?”

Suzy nodded faintly, her whiskers twitching. “Mhm… go sleep too, Erella. It’s late,” she said in a sleepy murmur, already nodding off again.

Erella smiled gently. “Alright. I will.” She tucked the mouse back into her cosy fabric nest and waited until Suzy’s breathing evened out before standing again.

With quiet steps, she finished putting the folded clothes away in the small wooden closet. The room grew silent except for the faint chirping of crickets outside the window.

Before heading to bed, she caught her reflection in the mirror once more. This time, instead of frowning, she cupped her cheeks and smiled playfully.

“Well… thank goodness,” she said softly. “Even though this isn’t the same story I know, at least I still look like an angel.”

She twirled lightly, the hem of her nightdress swaying around her ankles. Her thin frame and youthful face gave her a fragile beauty—like porcelain come to life. What she loved most, though, were the strands of soft blonde hair that shimmered like sunlight and the wide, ocean-blue eyes that sparkled with life.

“Not bad,” she whispered, winking at her reflection. “If nothing else, I’ll use this face to my advantage.”

She turned to walk back toward the bed but bumped her shin into a chair leg. “Ouch!” she hissed through clenched teeth, hopping on one foot. She wanted to cry but bit her lip to keep from waking the sleeping mice.

Tears prickled her eyes as she whispered to herself, “I better go to sleep before I injure myself again.”

Limping slightly, she climbed into bed and pulled the thin blanket over her shoulders. The three mice snuggled closer instinctively, forming a tiny warm pile beside her.

As her eyes grew heavy, she thought once more about the strange pain in her chest, her too-young body, and the story she thought she knew by heart.

Something had changed in this world—something the original fairytale never mentioned.

But for now, sleep was stronger than her curiosity. Erella exhaled softly and closed her eyes.

“Tomorrow,” she murmured, half-asleep, “I’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

And just like that, the girl who once died in an explosion drifted into a peaceful slumber—beneath a starry sky that shimmered with the promise of a rewritten fate.