It was 5:17 AM.
The sky was still painted in soft shades of indigo and violet, the stars slowly fading into the early morning light. The mansion was silent, the kind of silence only found before the world stirs awake. And yet, within the vast halls, Nora was already moving.
She was dressed in her usual uniform, her hair neatly tied, and her hands busy with the mop as she cleaned the marble floors of the east corridor. She had always preferred to work in silence, before the day's noise began. It was peaceful. Predictable. Safe.
Then she heard it.
Faint at first—soft voices, laughter, and then her name being called from outside the mansion gates.
Nora froze.
She walked briskly to the window, peeking through the curtains. Her heart skipped. There, at the gate, stood the children from the orphanage—her children. All of them, bundled in warm clothes, holding up a small cake with the number "18" proudly standing atop it in pink frosting.
She turned her head left, then right. No one. The house was still asleep. Not a single soul in sight.
Without thinking twice, she dropped the cleaning cloth, lifted her skirt slightly, and ran. Down the hall, through the back doors, across the garden. Her breath caught in her throat as she reached the gate and flung it open.
"Nora!" they screamed.
She wrapped them all in a tight embrace. The cake nearly got squished between them, but none of them cared. She held on tightly, her voice cracking as she whispered, "I love you all so much. I missed you."
From the third-floor balcony, hidden behind lace curtains, someone was watching.
Catalina, Zayan's mother, stood still, her eyes narrowed slightly—not with anger, but curiosity. She watched the way Nora's face lit up, the way she melted into those children's arms.
Then, her gaze shifted slightly.
Zayan.
He stood a few steps behind her, half in shadow, his eyes fixed on the scene below. And he was smiling—genuinely. It was the kind of smile she hadn't seen in years. The corners of his mouth curled gently, his usually cold eyes warm, almost… soft.
Catalina blinked.
Is that… a smile? she thought. At a maid? Her lips parted slightly in disbelief.
Could it be… he likes her?
She didn't say a word. But for the first time in a long while, she felt a strange warmth bloom in her chest—not just from watching her son smile, but from realizing it might just be a maid who had stirred something alive in him again.