The day that followed wove a new rhythm for yuna. Each morning,after helping her mother knead dough or sweep the little shelter,she would take the clay pot down the path to shokma. And each time,as though the river itself had whispered her secret,the three girls were waiting.
laboo quick-tongue and mischievous,always found a way to make her laugh.rinie,with her quiet grace,listen to yuna's timid words as though they were treasures.And nancy Ah-,nancy always smile brightly,always held yuna's had just a moment longer,her eyes glittering with something yuna could not name.
But Rama,wise in the quiet way of mother who had seen too much of the world,noticed the change in her daughter.yuna's face shone with excitement each morning,but her mother;s brow furrowed.
"be careful,little one,"Rama warned softly as she plaited yuna's hair one morning."Not even smile is born of kindness."
yuna only laughed,her heart too light to hold her mother's caution.
THE CREAM
one bright morning,nancy came to the river with something hidden beneath her shawl.Her lips curved in triumph as she drew out a small jar,the clay polished smooth.
"look what iv'e brought,"she announced,her voice laced with pride."A beauty cream.my mother's own recipe,handed down from her grandmother.It keeps the skin soft,glowing-like the queen of old."
Laboo rolled her eyes. "Again with your beauty tricks! Nancy, you'd smear mud on your face if someone swore it made you fairer."But Nancy ignored her, turning instead to Yuna. She pressed the jar into her hands, her voice dropping into a silken whisper.
Try it. You'll see."
Yuna hesitated. Rinie's eyes flickered, her lips parting in warning, but Yuna—too eager to belong, too trusting—nodded. "Thank you," she said softly, tucking the jar close.
That night, in the little shelter, she spread a thin layer across her cheeks. At first it tingled faintly, then burned, a sting sharp as nettles. She pressed her lips together, unwilling to cry out. If this was beauty, perhaps it was meant to hurt.
By morning her skin flamed red, blotches climbing her face. Rama gasped when she saw her."Child! What have you done?" she cried, fetching cool cloths."It was… it was just cream. From Nancy," Yuna whispered, ashamed.
Rama's mouth tightened into a hard line. "A gift can sometimes be a dagger hidden in silk." She tended her daughter through the day, bathing her face in herbs, whispering old prayers.
By nightfall the redness had softened, and by dawn, Yuna's skin shone even brighter, the flush of healing making her seem almost radiant.
At the River Again
When Yuna returned to Shokma the next morning, the three girls looked up at once. Rinie's eyes widened with relief."You're well," she breathed.Laboo clapped her hands. "You're even prettier than before! Like the moon after a storm.
Nancy froze. The jar she had offered was meant to scar, to dim that glow—but instead it had polished Yuna's beauty until it seemed untouchable. Her nails bit into her palms as she forced a smile."See? I told you it would work."
Rinie's gaze lingered on Nancy, sharp with suspicion, but she said nothing. Yuna, ever trusting, only smiled in gratitude.
That night, as Nancy lay awake, staring at the ceiling of her fine house, her thoughts burned. She had always been the admired one, the girl others whispered about, envied, copied. But now Yuna's face, unpainted and innocent, drew every gaze.
"No," Nancy whispered into the dark. "I won't let her take this from me."
The river's whisper carried through the night, but in Nancy's heart, another whisper grew louder—envy, sharpening into malice.
The sun rose slow and gold over the little shelter where Rama and Yuna lived. The walls were patched with woven palm fronds, the air cool from the night. A kettle steamed quietly on the small firepit as Rama hummed, her voice thin with weariness.
"Go and fetch some water, Yuna," she said gently, breaking a lump of bread. "The Shokma will be clear this morning."
Yuna nodded eagerly, the clay pot already in her hands. Since meeting Rinie, Laboo, and Nancy at the river, her days had begun to feel brighter. Her laughter had returned—soft, shy, but real. Even the air around her mother seemed lighter when Yuna smiled.
Still, Rama watched her with worry. "Be careful, my child," she murmured as Yuna tied her scarf. "Not every friendship begins with love."
Yuna tilted her head, puzzled. "They're kind to me, Mama. They make me laugh."Rama's eyes softened but did not ease. "Sometimes," she said, "a snake may wear a smile."
But Yuna was thirteen, full of hope and trust. She only kissed her mother's cheek and went skipping down the dusty path toward the Shokma River.
The river shimmered like liquid glass beneath the morning sun. The air was cool, threaded with the scent of wild mint. And as always, the three girls were already there—Rinie sitting on a smooth stone, dipping her fingers into the current; Laboo tossing pebbles to make them skip; Nancy standing slightly apart, her reflection watching her in the water like a rival.
"Yuna!" Laboo called out when she saw her. "You came early!"Rinie smiled warmly. "She always does. I think the river loves her already."
Nancy turned, lips curving in her perfect smile. "You came," she said, her tone honey-sweet. "I brought something special for you today."
From her basket, she drew out a small clay jar tied with a ribbon. The sun glinted on its polished lid.
"What is it?" Yuna asked, curious.
Nancy's voice dropped to a hush, like she was sharing a secret. "It's a beauty cream," she said. "My mother makes it from wild herbs and rosewater. She says the royal ladies used it long ago."
Rinie raised a brow. "Beauty cream? Again?"Nancy ignored her. "It keeps your skin soft and fair. You should try it, Yuna. It will make you even prettier than you already are."
Laboo laughed. "Oh, Nancy! As if she needs it. Yuna's face already glows like the moon. You'll just make her blind us all!"
Nancy's smile faltered for a split second, but she recovered quickly. "Still," she said sweetly, "a little more glow won't hurt."
Yuna looked from one to the other. Her heart fluttered with the strange warmth of being included, of being offered something special. "Thank you," she said, accepting the jar. "I'll try it tonight."
Rinie's eyes narrowed slightly. "Be careful, Yuna," she said softly. "Some things that shine on the outside can burn within."
Nancy gave a light laugh. "Oh, Rinie, you sound like an old grandmother. It's just a cream!"
The river laughed with them, its ripples catching sunlight like silver threads. But beneath
the laughter, something colder stirred—something only Nancy felt.
That night, Yuna sat by the fire as her mother mended a torn shawl. The little jar lay in her lap, glowing faintly in the firelight. She hesitated, then dipped her fingers into the cream. It smelled faintly of flowers, but also something else—sharp and strange.
She rubbed it gently onto her cheeks. At first, it tingled, then burned.She winced. "Maybe that means it's working," she whispered to herself, forcing a smile.
By morning, her face was flushed red, her skin hot to the touch.
"Yuna!" Rama gasped, rushing to her. "What happened to you?""It's nothing, Mama," Yuna murmured. "It's just a cream Nancy gave me. She said—"
Rama's hands froze midair. "Nancy gave you this?"
She took the jar, opened it, and sniffed. Her eyes darkened. "This is no beauty cream. It's filled with acid oil—it burns more than it heals!"
Tears filled Yuna's eyes. "But why would she—?"Rama pressed a cool cloth to her daughter's cheeks. "Because not everyone who smiles at you means you well. Remember that."
The next few days passed in pain and silence. Rama brewed herbs, washed Yuna's face with cool water, and whispered prayers as old as the river itself. Slowly, the redness faded. The swelling eased. And when Yuna finally looked into the small cracked mirror, she blinked in astonishment.
Her skin looked smoother, fairer—radiant. The burn had somehow polished her complexion into something luminous. Rama's jaw dropped slightly.
"By the spirits," she murmured. "Even pain can bloom beauty, it seems."
When Yuna returned to the Shokma River, her heart fluttered with nervousness. She half-feared Nancy's reaction.
The three girls were already there. Rinie gasped softly. "You're healed!" she said.Laboo clapped her hands. "Healed? She's glowing like morning light! Yuna, you're beautiful!"
Yuna blushed, ducking her head. "My mother's herbs helped."
Nancy stared, her smile frozen in place. The cream—her trap—had failed. It hadn't scarred Yuna; it had made her even more beautiful. Inside her chest, jealousy coiled tighter than a snake ready to strike.
"That's wonderful," she said smoothly. "I told you it would work."
Rinie shot her a glance, seeing the lie behind her words. But she said nothing—for now.
Nancy's laughter rang like glass. "You must come to my house tomorrow," she said. "I'll braid your hair the way I do mine. It will look so lovely on you."
Rinie frowned. "Nancy—""Oh, don't worry," Nancy interrupted, still smiling. "I only want to help."
Yuna, innocent and grateful, nodded. "I'd like that."
But as Nancy turned away, her eyes darkened, and her smile slipped at last."You may shine now," she muttered under her breath, "but I'll find a way to dull you yet."
That night, as crickets sang outside her window, Nancy sat at her vanity, staring into her reflection. She was beautiful—undeniably so—but all she could see in the mirror was Yuna's face reflected beside hers, gentler, purer, brighter.
Her fingers dug into the edge of the table. "I was the one they admired," she hissed softly. "The one they called beautiful. Not her."
Her reflection did not answer. The candle beside her flickered, and for a moment, it seemed as though her shadow twisted across the wall—longer, darker, whispering envy's name.
At the same hour, in the tiny shelter across the fields, Yuna lay curled beside her mother. Rama brushed a hand over her daughter's hair, whispering a prayer.
"May goodness guard your heart, my child," she murmured. "The world will try to darken your light. Never let it succeed."
The night wind slipped through the cracks, carrying the scent of river water. Yuna's eyes fluttered closed, her breath soft and steady.
And somewhere far off, by the same river that had brought them together, the shadows of envy stirred again—quiet, patient, waiting for their next chance to strike.