The merchant had six kids and three ships. Then the ocean took the ships and by November he was broke.
They moved to a small house. Five of the kids complained. The youngest, Belle, just kept things running. Not because she was a saint. Because someone had to.
Before he left to check on a rumored surviving ship, he asked each kid what they wanted. The older ones wanted jewelry and dresses. Belle asked for a rose. Her mom used to grow them.
The ship was a dead end. Creditors got everything. He rode home through the rain, got lost in the woods, and found a castle. Big, lit up, nobody home. Food on the table, fire going. He ate, slept.
In the morning he found the garden. Roses everywhere. He thought of Belle and picked one.
The Beast appeared. Huge. A face that used to be human.
"I let you sleep in my house and you steal from me."
"It's a rose."
"Send your daughter. The one who asked for the rose. She stays here, or you die."
Belle went. Her choice. "The rose was mine. So is the debt."
He was in the shadows when she arrived.
"You're scared."
"Yeah."
"That's fair."
He showed her around. Library, garden, music room. One rule:
"Have dinner with me every night."
"Why?"
"Because eating alone is the worst part."
First few weeks they talked about nothing. The castle, the weather.
But you can't eat with the same person every night for months and stay on the surface. At some point somebody says something real and the other person doesn't flinch and then you're somewhere different.
He told her about being lonely. She told him about her mom and the roses and being the person everyone leans on.
They argued about books. He'd read everything in the library. She disagreed with half his opinions. He liked that.
Every night after dinner:
"Belle, will you marry me?"
"No."
She wasn't mean about it. She just wasn't there yet.
"No. Not yet."
"Honest no is fine."
She asked to visit her dad. He was sick. The Beast gave her a week.
Her sisters talked her into staying longer. Day ten, she looked in a magic mirror and saw the Beast on the ground in the garden. Not moving.
She went back. Found him by the roses.
"You didn't come back."
"I'm here now."
"I love you," she said. Didn't plan to say it. "Not because of what you could be. Because of this. You ask every night and you take no for an answer. You're the kindest person I know."
He changed. Slowly. The dark pulled back, his face softened. A man, sitting in the garden, looking at his hands.
She already knew him. That was the thing. She'd loved him before this.
The point isn't the transformation. She didn't love him because he was secretly handsome. She loved him as he was. Big, rough, lonely, kind. And the love wasn't waiting for him to turn into something else.
Goodnight to the Beast, who asked every night and accepted every no.
Goodnight to Belle, who loved what was there.
Goodnight.