I want to say more about Harold but he is an enigma. I don’t understand him. He is a confusing character and I don’t know my feelings towards him. Pity? Anger? Shame? I’m not sure. But I don’t have time to think about this.

Nathan speed walks towards us and smiles when his eyes meet Margo.

“I apologize for my tardiness. My father called and it was urgent.” He holds out his hand for Margo. Margo hesitated for a moment but took his hand.

“No worries.” She responded. Nathan looked over at me and smiled.

“I think I can take it from here.” He said

A pit formed in my stomach and nausea hit my mouth. I didn’t want her to be alone with him. His eyes stared at me and his smile was plastered on his face. I could feel dinner coming up.

“I can–”

Margo put her hand up and smiled at me,

“It’s okay. Go get some rest Suki. I’ll see you in the morning.”

My body refused to move. Margo sighed. She grabbed my hands.

“You work so hard. You deserve to have a night to yourself. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

I wanted to protest. I wanted to refuse her request. I didn’t need to rest. I didn’t work as hard as I could or should. I just wanted to be there for her.

“Okay. I’ll let you be.” I told her, though every core of my body sickened at the words.

She smiled and waved before turning back to Nathan. The two walked further into the garden. 

She never looked back at me.

~~~~~

I went to the kitchen. I couldn’t rest and wanted to keep my hands busy. I figured washing dishes or baking cookies would do the trick. But, already I could smell the warm aroma of baked goods. Confused, I opened the door to see the head maid. She stood there, with a baking sheet of freshly baked cookies. 

I made my way in, careful not to get in her way. She faced away from me now. Staring at her cookies. She tapped on the counter. I went to the sink and started to wash the dishes.

“You don’t have to do that,” the head maid said. Her back still at me.

“I don’t mind,” I responded, still washing the dishes.

I could hear her sigh loudly, and out of the corner of my eye I see her fist tightened.

“You should mind,” she responded.

“Apologises. I’ll rephrase my sentence. I want to wash the dishes.”

She sighed and stood straighter. I turned to look at her, she looked back at me. Her eyes didn’t feel as cold as usual. Her face softened. Her eyes dulled.

“Do you… Do you like it here,” she asked.

It was that question again. I’ve been asked so many times about my life today. 

“Yes.”

She looked away from me and rubbed her head.

“You’ve never had anything… I’m sorry.”

Her eyes watered up and tears danced down her face. 

“What’s going on,” I questioned taking a step forward. We didn’t get along as well as we used to. We haven’t talked like this in years. 

“I overheard your conversation with the butlers.”

“You listened in on our conversation? There wasn’t anything unus–”

“You’re entire life has been here Suki. Working and learning everything about this line of work. We… I never gave you a chance to learn anything else besides service. It isn’t fair for you.”

“I do not.” I stop myself, “I enjoy what I do, ma’am.”

Her eyes widened and she brought her hands to her face.

“You used to call me Ma,” she whimpered.

There was a time when I saw her as a mother. It was when I was way younger. Maybe five. She used to read me stories to bed and we would play games. I remember her husband would let me ride on his shoulders. We used to laugh like a family, but when he passed everything changed. Grief is a powerful weapon that changes people. The head maid changed, which was to be expected. But that change drifted us apart. It made her meaner, her tongue was a sword ready to slash at anyone. Including me. It was best to keep my distance, after all, I am the reason why her husband died.

“You were the one that told me to stop,” I truthfully told her. She shook her head.

“I know. I know. Suki. I’m. I’m so sorry. It’s just.”

She stared at me, her eyes red and watery. More tears danced across her face.

“Greif is a weird thing.”

I sighed grabbing a towel and handing it to her. She took it gingerly from me and dabbed at her face.

“What kind of cookies were you making?”

I took a step closer to the cookies, a strong wift of oatmeal rose from them.

“Oatmeal raisin. I wanted to bake something for Margo.”

I sighed and looked over, “You know she doesn’t like oatmeal raisin right?”

She nodded, “But you like them right? This batch was for you?”

I looked down back at the cookies. The aroma was sweet, but the smell of oatmeal was overwhelming. I was never a fan of oatmeal raisin, only eating them if they were around. They were not my go-to choice, but as a kid I loved eating cookies, no matter the flavor. Especially when the head maid baked them. She would put so much love into her baking, spending hours at a time making sure everything was perfect. Her baking was an art form. 

“Yeah, I do. Oatmeal raisin is nice.” 

A smile grew on her face and she placed a hand on my shoulder. I smiled back, partially because I smile when I lie. 

“Would you like to bake cookies for Margo together? She likes sugar correct?”

I nodded, “Yeah, she loves sugar cookies. Yeah. We can bake some together.”

We baked in silence, not once talking after that. I know she was trying to reconnect with me. A guilt she had after ignoring me for so many years. She was right. Grief is weird. And I am also right, grief is a weapon. After losing her husband she changed and grew colder towards me. I think she regretted that. We were family, not in the bloodline sense, but still family. I wouldn’t find out until later that she adopted me. That was the only reason why I was allowed to stay in the castle. 

I wish I didn’t allow her to push me away. If only I fought it more. But regrets do nothing but create guilt and what-ifs. I ate the oatmeal raisin cookies, and even though I disliked them I never told her. I should have savored each bite.