"We are here," the driver said.
I stepped out of the car and froze.
Before me stood a massive mansion, tall and elegant, with wide gates and walls. The house looked perfect, like something out of a dream. For a brief moment, I wished I could live in a place like this—not as a maid, but as someone who belonged.
I tightened my grip on my small luggage and walked toward the gate.
The security guard stopped me. "Who are you?"
"My name is Kara," I replied softly. "I'm the new maid."
He studied me for a moment, then nodded and pointed toward the front door. "Go that way. The butler is expecting you."
My heart beat faster as I approached the door. Before I could knock, it opened.
"Are you Kara?" the butler asked.
"Yes, sir," I answered, lowering my head slightly.
"Follow me," he said.
Inside, the house was even more beautiful. The floors shone, the walls were lined with expensive paintings, and everything smelled clean and rich. I felt small, like I didn't belong in such a place.
The butler stopped in front of a young lady with red hair.
"This is Niffy," he said. "She'll take you to the maids' quarters and show you around."
Niffy smiled warmly at me, and the butler left.
"Hi," she said cheerfully. "I'm Niffy."
"My name is Kara," I replied.
"You're so pretty," Niffy said suddenly.
I felt shy and smiled. "Thank you. You look beautiful too. I love your hair. I wish I had red hair like yours."
She laughed softly. "Thank you."
She led me through the house, down a quieter hallway, and finally to the maids' quarters. She showed me my room—it was small but neat—and then showed me hers.
"Settle in first," she said. "When you're ready, come meet me in my room. I'll show you the rest of the mansion."
I nodded.
I arranged my few clothes in the wardrobe, laid my bed neatly, and took a deep breath. Then I went to meet Niffy.
She took me to the kitchen first. I met the cook and a few other maids. They greeted me kindly, which eased my nerves.
Everyone was nice to me.
Niffy then showed me the areas where I would be working and explained my duties. As she spoke, I listened carefully. I knew I had to do my best. This job was my chance to survive.
The next day, I was among the maids assigned to serve at the dining table. My hands trembled slightly as I arranged the cutlery, knowing I was about to meet my employers for the first time.
As I adjusted the plates, someone walked into the dining room, and my breath caught.
She was beautiful and cheerful, about my age. She was tall, with smooth brunette hair and a soft, graceful presence. Her lips were full and perfectly shaped, and her smile lit up the room. She wore a yellow summer dress from Christian Dior, paired with amber YSL heels—pieces I could only admire from a distance.
Yes, I knew the brands. I loved fashion.
I watched her move effortlessly, confidence in every step, like she belonged exactly where she was.
She knows how to dress, I thought to myself. For a moment, I forgot I was a maid.
"I know I'm cute, but breathe," Kira said.
I chuckled nervously. "I'm sorry, ma—"
"Drop the respect," she cut in. "We look the same age. What's your name?"
She tilted her head. "You're new here, right?"
"My name is Kara," I replied. "Yes, I'm new."
"Thought so," she smiled. "I'm Kira."
Suddenly, a loud voice cut through the room.
"What is going on here?"
Kira's expression changed instantly. She leaned closer and whispered, "You gotta run."
My heart skipped as a woman approached us. From her posture alone, I knew—this was the lady of the house.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," I said quickly.
She looked at me with disgust. "You filthy maid. Standing here staring instead of doing your work? Is this what you were hired for? Lazy and useless."
I lowered my head, my face burning.
"Finish setting the table and get out of my sight," she snapped.
I hurriedly completed the setup and scurried away, my heart pounding. As I walked off, I murmured under my breath, Nice daughter… terrible mother.
I went straight into the kitchen. The cook handed me the dishes to serve.
When I returned to the dining room, a man was already seated at the head of the table—the master of the house, Kira's father. His presence was calm but commanding.
I greeted him quietly and hurried to place the food on the table, serving everyone quickly, eager to escape the woman's sharp gaze.
As I placed the final dish on the table, I felt his gaze on me.
It wasn't sharp like his wife's, or dismissive. It was calm, steady, and observant. The kind of look that made you feel seen without being judged.
"Leave the tray," he said.
I paused, startled, then obeyed quickly.
"You're new," he added.
"Yes, sir," I replied, keeping my eyes lowered.
He studied me for a brief moment. The dining room was quiet except for the soft clinking of cutlery.
"What's your name?"
"Kara, sir."
He nodded slowly, as if committing it to memory. "You're young."
"Yes, sir."
Another pause.
"Did you settle in well?" he asked.
I hesitated, unsure how to answer honestly in front of his wife. "Yes, sir."
"Good," he said simply.
Across the table, his wife scoffed. "There's no need to coddle the help."
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't even look at her.
But when he spoke again, the room shifted.
"I asked a question," he said calmly. "You don't need to answer for her."
Silence followed.
My heart pounded. I had never seen someone command a room without shouting.
He finally looked at me again. "You may go."
"Yes, sir," I said, bowing slightly before retreating.
As I turned to leave, I felt something strange settle in my chest.
Safety.
For the first time since I arrived, I felt it.