Chapter Three: Things That Don't Belong
Catalina Montemayor was in one of her moods.
She stomped down the hallway in her frilly house slippers, arms crossed, eyes searching for something—or someone—to be annoyed about.
Her favorite blue dress—the one with the gold-threaded butterflies—was missing.
She'd checked all her drawers twice. Called for two maids. No one had taken it to the wash. And she was certain she hadn't lost it.
She was Catalina Montemayor. Things didn't just disappear from her closet.
"Where is it?!" she shouted, storming toward the laundry room.
As she passed the storage room behind the kitchen—the one Mira now slept in—she paused.
The door was slightly open.
Catalina squinted. Inside, she could see Mira, asleep on her small mattress, hugging a rolled towel like a pillow.
Curious, and angry, Catalina tiptoed in. The floor creaked once.
Mira didn't stir.
Catalina's eyes scanned the small space—broom, rag, plastic bucket—and then her gaze landed on something odd. A small corner of sky-blue fabric peeking out from under the mattress.
Her breath hitched.
She yanked it out.
Her butterfly dress. Crumpled. Warm. Hidden.
She stormed out, fire in her chest.
Later that day, she waited for the perfect moment to tell her mother. But when she passed Isabella's study, she heard something strange.
Dona Isabella stood by the window, a basket of newly pressed linens in her hands, talking to herself as she neatly folded.
"She even matches colors without being told," Isabella murmured, smiling. "She's sharp, that one. Quiet, but her eyes catch everything."
Catalina froze just outside the door.
"She doesn't ask for anything," Isabella continued. "She works without needing to be watched. Luz raised a girl with hands of gold…"
Catalina's heart thumped.
"She's just… remarkable."
That word hurt. It wasn't about her. It wasn't Catalina being praised.
Catalina stepped forward.
"Mama?"
No answer.
"Mama!" she said louder, stepping into the room.
Still, nothing.
Isabella was now watching something through the window. Catalina followed her gaze.
Outside, in the courtyard, Mira was helping Tiya Marta carry the laundry. She was balancing the heavy basket with both hands, steady and careful, her steps precise like she was dancing with the burden.
Isabella's eyes shimmered with quiet admiration.
Catalina looked at her mother. Then at Mira. Then back at her mother.
And suddenly, a new feeling grew inside her—not just jealousy.
Fear.
For the first time, Catalina felt like she wasn't enough.
That night, she tossed the blue dress on her floor.
"I don't even want it anymore," she muttered.
But her hands shook.
Meanwhile, Mira folded clothes in the dim light of her corner. The room was still. Her mother's locket lay beside her as always. She didn't know someone had seen the dress earlier. Or that Catalina was watching her more closely now.
She only knew she had survived another day. And slowly, she was becoming part of the house—whether it wanted her or not.
End of Chapter Three