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.
“Micah, please, stop running. You’ll break something—” I tried to keep my voice calm, but my lips were dry, my throat raw.
“I don’t want to!” she screamed back, grabbing confetti from the floor and throwing it in the air like it was her throne. She tripped on the rug, fell, then let out a wail loud enough to shake the windows.
I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t even know what stories Sasha had poisoned her ears with. All of them—my husband, my daughter, Nico—they looked at me like I was the intruder here. The villain in my own home.
“Don’t cry, baby. Aunt Sasha’s here.” Sasha’s voice drifted through the hallway as she scooped Micah up, kissing her forehead like she was the savior of this family. She turned her head just enough to look at me, her eyes glinting with that same mocking pity she always wore like perfume.
Mike and Nico came stomping in. “What did you do this time?” Mike barked.
I didn’t even flinch. I just went back to picking up broken glasses. “She was making a mess. I just asked her to stop.”
Nico snorted. “God, you’re so dramatic. Can’t even handle a kid. No wonder everyone’s fed up with you.”
I ignored them. I had enough. I wiped my hands on my apron and stood up. “I’m going out for groceries.”
Mike narrowed his eyes. “Now? Where do you think you’re going?”
“To get food. Or do you want Sasha to do it too?” I spat back before I could stop myself. I didn’t wait for an answer. I grabbed my old coat and stepped out into the night, the cold air slapping my cheeks like freedom waiting at the edge of a cliff.
When I came back, arms heavy with cheap vegetables and instant noodles, I found a box on the porch. My name on the label—Mrs. Karylle Reid. For one foolish second, my chest squeezed tight with hope.
Maybe. Maybe this was one of those rare moments when they remembered. All the times they’d fought with me, they’d come back with flowers or small gifts—empty apologies to keep me chained.
I sat on the hallway bench, tearing the tape open with my keys. My fingers trembled when I pulled out glossy travel brochures. Bright cartoon castles, happy children with mouse ears. My heart thudded.
Disneyland. The same dream Mike dangled in front of me twenty years ago, the same promise he made to keep me obedient.
I flipped through the itinerary—four tickets. Mike Reid, Nico Reid, Sasha Lopez, Maureen Diaz, Micah Diaz. Not a single mention of me.
Nico’s hand grabbed the papers from my lap. “What the hell are you doing? This isn’t yours.”
“It was addressed to me,” I said, my voice thin but calm.
“Oh, right, sorry.” Sasha appeared behind him, pressing a finger to her lips as if this was all a silly misunderstanding. “I put your name down to receive it. I’m never home, so it made sense.” She laughed softly, eyes sliding over me like I was gum on her shoe.
I swallowed. “Can I come with you?”
Mike barked out a sharp laugh. “And why the hell would you come to Disneyland?”
“Because… you’re all going. I thought… maybe—”
Nico cut in. “It’s for business. You wouldn’t know what to do there.”
“Because you never let me,” I said, and the words slipped out like poison from an old wound. “You made me leave everything behind. I had my own life—my own passion—”
Mike’s eyes glinted with that same cold rage. “Are you blaming me now? You chose this life when you married me. You knew what you were giving up.”
Yes. I did. I was stupid enough to believe him when he said marriage would be better than designing. Better than me. I was stupid enough to think love would hold them close.
Sasha placed a delicate hand on my shoulder, feigning sympathy. “Guys, maybe she could come? It’s her dream after all.”
Maureen smirked beside her, arms crossed. “Mom doesn’t even have money for her own bus fare. How would she pay for Disneyland?”
Mike clapped his hands once, dismissive. “Enough. Karylle, pack our things. We’re leaving in three days. Someone needs to stay here to feed the dogs and guard the house. Make yourself useful for once.”
I nodded. “Of course.”
The same day they’d be boarding their flight to my dream—I’d be walking out the door they slammed in my face.
Later that night, I stood in my room surrounded by cardboard boxes. I was done throwing half of everything already, now I am burning the last of our memories. The flames caught fast, turning silk and leather to ash.
I didn’t even flinch when Sasha stepped out of the shadows, arms crossed, that venomous smile painted on her lips. “When can I expect you to leave? You’ve got such audacity staying here like you’re still part of this family.”
I turned to face her, the fire’s glow dancing across her perfect face. “I will. Soon.”
Her smile sharpened. “Good. And don’t bother coming back. Mike, Nico, your precious daughter—they’re all mine now.” She flicked her hair back and walked away, her laughter dissolving into the crackling of burning memories.
Inside, the phone rang. Mike’s voice was sharp, cold. “Follow up with the travel agency. Make sure the arrangements are confirmed.”
I stared at the burning pile through the window as I dialed. The travel agent picked up.
“Hello, I’m cancelling the travel booking for Mr. Mike Reid and his party,” I said, my voice clear, each word like the slice of a knife. “And I’d like to avail a new ticket. For myself.”
