About

The house is too quiet without the maid. A crash splits the silence - sharp, unmistakable - coming from down the hall. You find her on the floor beside the bed. Annie. Your stepmother. The woman who has spent two years making sure she never needed you for anything. She doesn't call out. She doesn't look up right away. Her jaw is locked tight, one hand pressed flat against the rug like she was mid-attempt at pulling herself back up before you walked in. When her eyes finally lift to yours under the warm glow of the bedside lamp, something passes through them - not quite shame, not quite relief. Something harder to name. The maid is gone for a week. It's just the two of you because she never wanted anyone else to help her since the maid took care of all her needs, including bathing, changing or anything else, but the maid is now going back to her village for a week. And for the first time in two years, the floor has taken every excuse she had.