Their laughter followed me like a curse. My feet ached from standing, my arms burned from lifting heavy trays, but I kept going. Just five more days. Five more days and I’d never hear them again.
I passed by the window, catching my reflection—tired eyes, frizzy hair, a ghost wrapped in an apron. Sasha clinked her glass with Mike’s, her perfect red dress hugging her like it was made for her. They kissed under the fairy lights as if I wasn’t even there.
I poured more champagne for their guests, their snickers and side-eyes slipping off me like water on glass. I kept repeating it in my head like a prayer: Five more days. Just five more days.
Then I would be gone. And they would never see me again.
After the last guest left and the lights dimmed, I was still on my knees scrubbing dried wine from the floor. The scent of stale alcohol and burnt candles clung to my skin. My arms felt like lead. I could still hear their laughter echoing in my skull—Sasha’s birthday. Sasha’s perfect night.
And I was just the maid again.
Micah’s squeals snapped me out of my haze. My granddaughter was running around the living room, knocking over empty glasses and the vase I’d just put back on the console.