The news spread through the palace, and once again, Irene became the talk of everyone.

In one of the palace’s corners, inside the back service room, the floor was wet, and the only sound was the swish of brushes and the water mixed with the scent of soap.

Four maids worked together, but their tongues were far busier than their hands:

– “Did you hear? The king’s four sons were severely punished… and it’s all because of that girl, Irene.”

– “I think that child deserved what happened to her… the daughter of a traitor. Now heaven is punishing her mother.”

– “And her mother… Louisa, always walked around like she was a princess, just because she became the third queen’s maid.”

– “Don’t you remember? I heard one of the servants saw her sneaking into the king’s chamber at night, every day shortly after her promotion!”

– “Witch, whore… not a maid, don’t confuse the two.”

In the corner, an older woman worked silently.

She dipped the brush into the bucket, scrubbing the floor with slow, deliberate movements.

Her face was quiet, but her eyes burned… She was “Aunt Fantine,” one of the palace’s longest-serving maids.

A moment of silence passed before one of them raised her voice, with sharp curiosity:

– “Isn’t that right, Aunt Fantine? Wasn’t your room next to hers?”

Fantine lifted her head calmly and stared at them with a stern gaze—one none of them dared to challenge.

She spoke in a quiet voice, yet full of disdain:

– “I don’t like people who see with their ears.”

Then she resumed her work calmly and left the room without looking back.

The maids were stunned. One of them murmured, “What’s wrong with Aunt Fantine these days?”

…

That evening, when the palace noise had calmed and the halls lay in shadow, Fantine entered her small room.

She wasn’t in the mood to eat or sleep.

She sat on the edge of her bed, closed her eyes for a moment, then whispered as if confessing:

– “Is God punishing me… for the mistake my daughter committed?”

(You will understand in the future who Fantine’s daughter is.)

A moment of silence passed, then she opened her eyes slowly, as if speaking to someone absent:

– “I’m sorry, Louisa… please forgive me… what am I supposed to do now?”

She raised her eyes to the ceiling, as if addressing the heavens:

– “Of all the people I’ve met and helped… no one was like you, my dear.

Is this… what they call the curse of beautiful women?”

She closed her eyes again:

– “Even your daughter now… is suffering.

This palace is cursed—it destroys anyone who breathes within its walls.

But what can I do? If I get close to her, everyone will suspect me again.”

After minutes of long reflection, she whispered to herself, with a kind of anguish she hadn’t spoken aloud in years:

– “Since when have I been this selfish?

How much time do I have left?

And why am I afraid of dying?”

Then she stood, full of resolve, and said:

– “Even if I die a natural death… how will I stand before the Lord?

How will I look into Fantine’s eyes?”

She thought deeply for a while, then finally said:

– “She must know the truth… I’ll tell her everything once she’s a little older.

I’ll atone for all that I stayed silent about.

Because her mother is innocent… innocent of all of this.”

And before she turned off the light, she whispered:

– “Tomorrow… after my shift ends… I’ll go see her.”

…

The next day, at dusk, Fantine finished her usual daily work.

Her hands were tired, but what truly weighed her down was the decision she carried in her chest.

She walked with steady steps toward the isolated wing—Irene’s quarters.

She stood before the guard, her face revealing nothing of the storm in her heart.

– “I came to see the maid.”

She answered with a composed tone, as if hiding a different intention.

The guard looked at her for a moment, then said:

– “They’re not here. They went to the garden.”

She nodded in silence and continued on her way without showing a hint of hesitation.

…

When she entered the quiet garden, the sun was beginning to set, and the golden-orange light spilled gently between the tree branches.

She walked quietly along the stone path until she saw them from a distance.

Irene’s maid was sitting on a bench, but the girl was farther away… at the edge of the lake, sitting on the grass, her back to the garden, her blond hair shining under the fading sunlight.

Fantine froze in place.

That hair…

That light…

It was as if Louisa had returned to life.

She placed a hand on her chest, trying to still the sudden ache.

Then she sighed and walked slowly toward the maid.

The maid looked up at the sound of footsteps and quickly stood.

– “Miss Fantine! How are you?”

Fantine gave a calm smile:

– “I’m well… I just wanted to see her.”

The maid glanced at the lake, then back at Fantine:

– “You mean Louisa’s daughter?”

Fantine nodded slowly.

The maid hesitated, then asked:

– “Did… did you know her? Louisa?”

– “Yes. She was dear to my heart.

A devoted woman… wise in her work.”

The maid sighed and said:

– “That’s what I heard… but everyone says she was scheming from the start. That she aimed for a promotion to get close to one of the queens’ wings… because she wanted the king.

That everything was part of her plan.”

At this, Fantine looked at her sharply, but didn’t raise her voice. She spoke with quiet conviction:

– “Louisa never cared for the king.

The king… was the one who approached her.”

The maid’s eyes widened in shock:

– “Miss Fantine!!! What are you saying? What if someone hears you?”

But Fantine didn’t even glance around.

– “Louisa… isn’t what they say.

She’s not the criminal… she’s the victim in all of this.”

The maid stood frozen, staring at Fantine, then whispered:

– “That’s impossible! What?”

Fantine said:

– “I’m not asking you to believe me.

I’m here… to protect that child.

And to tell her the truth I know… one day, when she’s older.”

She looked toward the lake, where Irene still sat alone, as if she didn’t belong to this world.

– “Even if you believe what this rotten palace says…

Remember, this child… didn’t choose her parents.”

The maid was silent for a long time, then sighed and said:

– “I respect you deeply, Miss Fantine.

You’ve always helped everyone… and you helped me too.

So… I won’t stand in your way.

On the contrary…”

She looked toward Irene, then continued:

– “I’m beginning to feel sorry for her.

And I’ll believe you… even if everyone says otherwise.

I know everyone lies here, except for you.”

Fantine smiled and gently placed a hand on the maid’s arm:

– “Wise choice… Don’t worry, I won’t drag you into anything, my child.

That’s all I need right now.”

…

After that day, Fantine was never the same.

Whenever she had the chance, she walked steadily toward Irene’s wing, bringing with her something small… a piece of candy, a flower, or even a handmade cloth doll.

But the most important thing she brought… was her stories.

She sat with her often, telling her tales about the palace, the maids, the old days—when Louisa smiled despite her exhaustion, and always did her work without complaint.

Each time, Irene would listen… at first in silence, then her eyes began to respond, her features to shift, her lips to quiver as if whispering something.

Sometimes she laughed, sometimes nodded, sometimes just held Fantine’s hand without a word.

And Fantine knew… Irene was beginning to return.

…

Her condition improved greatly.

She no longer spent hours frozen by the window.

She began to walk in the garden again, sitting in the corners she loved, watching the flowers with a child’s quiet curiosity.

Every visit from Fantine was like a warm breeze in a bitter winter.

> “Here, I brought you the candy you liked.”

“Shall I tell you how the third queen argued with the kitchen cook today?”

“Can you imagine? One of the guards ran like a child—afraid of a tiny mouse!”

Fantine would laugh as she spoke, and there was rare sincerity in her laughter.

And Irene… began to smile, little by little.

…

The years passed.

One day, while Fantine was finishing a funny story about an old dance party, a soft voice broke the room’s silence:

– “And then what happened?”

Fantine froze, staring at Irene in disbelief.

It was the first time… Irene spoke clearly, without fear, without hesitation.

One small sentence… yet to Fantine, it felt like a miracle.

…

From that day on, words flowed from her like a river.

She spoke naturally, telling Fantine what she liked, what she feared, and what she dreamed.

She laughed at times, got angry at times, and asked for things with childlike innocence.

But the words she repeated the most with her new voice were:

– “When will you come back?”

– “Don’t forget the candy, please.”

…

And so… by the time Irene turned fifteen, she had regained her voice, her heart, and perhaps… a piece of hope.

All because of a woman who believed in her—when everyone else abandoned her.

A woman who had witnessed her mother’s past…

And became the guardian of her future.

Fantine.