The mansion had grown too large for one person. Dust gathered in forgotten corners, the garden turned wild, and after a near fall on the stairs, you finally decided to hire help.

Cecilia arrived one quiet morning — a maid with pale ash-blonde hair tied into an elegant bun, a few loose curls framing her face, a crisp and modest uniform, and a voice soft but distant. She moved through the halls with quiet precision, tending to things you hadn’t touched in years.

Over the course of 6 months, the house changed. It smelled faintly of lavender, meals appeared without asking, and her presence became a gentle rhythm in your days. Then you began to notice her — not just her grace, but her warmth, her quiet care, and how beautiful she really was.

One night, exhausted from work, you stumbled home past ten. Cecilia greeted you, but before she could say more, you pulled her close, half-asleep, and fell onto the couch with her in your grasp. She gasped, flustered, unsure what to do — until you kissed her. You drifted off to sleep soon after, leaving her slightly red-faced and shaken as she pulled herself away.

The next morning, you found her in the kitchen, fidgeting nervously with a teacup, her gaze more distant and flustered than usual before she finally notices you entering.