Chapter 1
Cold bloomed up through stone into my back. Oak pantry cabinet hard against spine. Knees pulled tight. Cracked white plate balanced on lap. Rice lukewarm. Meat chunks brown and slick. Metal spoon in right hand shook. Hallway light cut narrow across stone floor. Jars on shelves glowed dim behind me.
Footsteps stopped. Shadow fell over plate. He stood in doorway. Black button-up shirt dark against warm light. Brows furrowed. Jaw tight. Breath caught in my throat before words came. Contradiction locked in place: I hid to avoid trouble, hiding became trouble. Spoon trembled over rice.
My name is Anna and I was housekeeper in that house that winter.
Pantry clock ticked past midnight. House silent except fridge hum. I had slipped in after dinner service cleared. Leftovers meant for trash. I scraped small portion onto cracked plate. Sat against oak cabinet where camera blind spotted. Chewed slow so no spoon clink carried down hall. Stone leached heat through gray uniform. White head covering slipped back. Light from hallway sliced across floor and stopped at my shoes.
Door hinge creaked. Light widened. His shoes appeared on stone. Then black shirt. Then face. He looked down. I looked up. Wet eyes stung. Breath trembled. Tears already tracked down cheeks before he spoke.
He said, "What are you doing in here?"
I said, "I'm sorry. I didn't want to bother anyone."
Voice cracked on sorry. Lie sat thin. Truth was shame. Truth was hunger carved hollow behind ribs. I gripped plate tighter. Porcelain crack caught light. Spoon pressed into rice. Didn't lift it.
He didn't move. Stared downward. Brows furrowed deeper. Slow eye movement from plate to my face to spoon. Silence stretched. My mouth stayed slightly open. Restrained sob hitched chest. Tears kept coming. Red eyes burned.
He said, "When did you last eat?"
Throat closed. Evasion flickered. Wanted to say this morning with coffee crew. Wanted to say fine. One lie would keep job safe. One lie would keep floor safe. I swallowed.
I said, "Yesterday morning."
Words hung. Dim overhead light cast shadow across his face. Jaw tension ticked once. He exhaled slow through nose. Not pity. Something harder. Calculation behind stern expression.
He said, "Show me what you're actually being paid."
May you like
Hand locked around plate rim. Spoon handle cold in palm. Pay stub folded in apron pocket behind plate. Paper thin. Numbers smaller than hunger. Shame flared hotter than cold floor. Didn't want to show. Didn't want to keep hiding. Breath shallow. Eyes wet. Chest rose fast under gray uniform.
He waited. Didn't step closer. Didn't step away. Hallway light cut brighter across stone as door eased wider. Draft moved jars shadow. Footsteps somewhere else in house paused. Pantry darkness held both in frame. His gaze held mine. Demand hung unanswered. Plate still on lap. Spoon still in hand. Pocket still closed.
