I walked slowly to my room, each step heavier than the last. The hallway felt colder tonight, and I wrapped my arms around myself, like it would keep the world out. As soon as I shut the door behind me, I let go.
I slid down to the floor, pressing my back against the door, and I cried. Not the quiet kind, not the careful kind. It was loud, aching, and deep. I cried for everything. For the shame, for the whispers, for the looks I had to endure. I cried because I didn’t even do anything, and yet somehow, I was the villain in their eyes.
"Why me?" I whispered. "Why do they all hate me ?"
I stayed there for what felt like forever, curled into myself, letting every drop of pain spill out. But eventually, the tears stopped. They always do.
I wiped my eyes with the edge of my sleeve and slowly stood up. I walked to the mirror and looked at myself.
"Enough," I said quietly.
Enough crying. Enough hiding. Enough letting them break me.
I was here to work. To serve. I didn’t come to steal anyone’s mate or title. I didn’t ask for any of this.
If they were going to throw hate my way, I would shield myself with silence and strength.
I washed my face, tied my hair back, fixed my uniform, and stepped out of the room. The hallway was filled with other maids walking about, and some paused when they saw me.
"That’s her," I heard someone whisper.
"She still has the nerve to come out?"
I didn’t respond. I kept walking, my chin up, my heart steady. I wouldn’t let their words stick with me anymore.
As I approached the service quarters, Matilda stormed in, her face flushed with anger. Naomi and Bianca followed closely behind her. Both girls had bruises on their faces, one had a split lip, and the other had a swollen eye.
Matilda marched straight to me. "Lisa!"
I stood straight, meeting her gaze. "Yes, ma’am."
"Do you not know the rules and regulations of this palace? No maid is allowed to fight. Absolutely none!"
I let out a soft scoff, even though it took all my strength to stay respectful.
"With all due respect, ma’am," I said, keeping my voice calm, "did you not see the bruises on my body too?"
Matilda blinked, clearly caught off guard.
I unbuttoned the top of my dress slightly and moved the collar aside just enough to show the purple-blue mark forming on my shoulder.
"They attacked me first," I added. "I defended myself. That’s all."
Naomi huffed. "Liar. You provoked us. Acting like you’re better than everyone."
I turned to face her directly. "I act like someone who minds her business. That seems to offend people these days."
"Enough," Matilda snapped. "This is not how palace maids are meant to behave. All of you, fighting like children. It’s disgraceful."
"I agree," I said, nodding. "It is disgraceful. But I will not stand still and be a punching bag for anyone. Not anymore."
Matilda’s eyes narrowed. "You think you can talk to me like that?"
"I’m sorry, ma’am," I said quickly, lowering my gaze slightly. "But I’m just tired. Tired of being treated like I don’t belong. Tired of being blamed for things I didn’t do."
There was a pause. For a brief moment, Matilda’s face softened.
Then she turned to the others. "All of you... go to the punishment room. I don’t care who started what. You fight, you pay."
Naomi and Bianca gasped. "But..."
"Now!" Matilda barked.
They stormed out angrily, shooting daggers at me with their eyes. I didn’t flinch.
Matilda looked at me again. "You, Lisa. Go get the linen sorted. Miss Belinda requested new sheets."
I balanced the fresh linens in my arms as I made my way to Belinda’s room. My steps were slow, but my heart beat like a drum. Belinda calling for me could only mean one thing: hell.
And I was ready for it.
At least, I hoped I was.
I stopped in front of her door, took a shaky breath, and raised my hand to knock.
I was about to turn and leave when suddenly, the door swung open from the inside. I stepped back quickly, startled. A palace guard rushed past me, nearly brushing my shoulder. His face was pale, his brows furrowed, and his breathing uneven, like he had just seen something that rattled him to the core. He didn’t look at me, didn’t even acknowledge me.
My brows drew together in confusion. What was that about?
Was something wrong? Had something happened inside?
I hesitated at the doorway, unsure if I should step in or walk away and pretend I hadn’t seen anything. But before I could even think too hard, Belinda’s voice came slicing through the silence like a whip.
"What are you waiting for? Come in and do your job!"
Her voice was sharp, cutting. Cold. It made my spine stiffen. I swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and stepped cautiously into the room.
Immediately, I was hit with a strong wave of perfume. The scent was overwhelming, sweet, expensive, but heavy like it was trying to mask something darker underneath.
The room itself looked like it had been turned upside down. A glass perfume bottle lay shattered on the marble floor, its glittering pieces reflecting the chandelier’s soft light like tiny stars scattered in chaos. There was a dark stain on the edge of the white rug, perfume, maybe. Or wine. Or something worse.
A chair was pushed halfway out of place, as if someone had stood up too quickly. The mirror on the vanity was slightly cracked at the corner.
It wasn’t just perfume in the air. It was rage. Unspoken. Unleashed. Unresolved.
She stood by her mirror, brushing her long hair like it was the only thing she could control in the world. I noticed the broken perfume bottle near the dresser. The glass glittered on the floor like it had exploded just moments ago.
Without looking at me, she let out a loud hiss, grabbed her robe, and stormed out.
"Useless," she muttered under her breath. The door slammed behind her.