Chapter 8
Mirelle stopped working as a maid.
Her choice.
I offered money.
She refused at first.
Then accepted support for Lily.
Important distinction.
Not payment for silence.
Not compensation for motherhood.
My responsibility.
She moved into a small house near the estate.
Not inside it.
She wanted distance.
I understood.
For years Ashwick walls had meant people deciding things about her.
She wanted her own front door.
Her own kitchen.
Her daughter sleeping under her roof without family debate.
Good.
I visited there.
No bodyguards inside.
No servants.
First time I washed a cup, Lily applauded.
Apparently my reputation was low.
Mirelle laughed.
I liked the sound too much.
Dangerous.
I reminded myself:
Gratitude is not romance.
Shared child is not romance.
Old unfinished attraction is not automatically destiny.
May you like
So I did nothing.
For once, patience was not avoidance.
