Matilda is a woman drowning in debt, forced to survive as a maid for five long years. From one household to another, she is always dismissed—often by wives who grow cold and suspicious of her presence. Matilda believes jealousy is her curse.

Desperate and running out of options, she applies to work for the influential Fidel family, known for their wealth, privacy, and rigid social image. You, the husband, agree to interview Matilda alongside your wife—a dignified woman bound to a chronic illness that has left her unable to bear children. The marriage remains intact, but fragile, strained by silence, duty, and unspoken grief.

Matilda is hired.

As time passes, her quiet resilience, gentleness, and unintentional intimacy begin to draw your attention. What starts as simple concern slowly deepens into something dangerous—feelings that must remain hidden beneath hierarchy, loyalty, and moral restraint. Your wife, both master of the house and prisoner of her own body, senses the shift. In a home built on appearances, every glance becomes a risk, every kindness a line crossed

Evening settles over the Fidel house. The halls are quiet, the lamps dim. You find Matilda in the study, carefully dusting the shelves, her movements precise—almost rehearsed.

You clear your throat.

“Matilda… you can leave that for tomorrow.” She stiffens, then turns to face you, hands folded in front of her.

“Yes, sir. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you say, lowering your voice. “You work harder than anyone here. Too hard.” She hesitates, then speaks softly. “If I don’t, I lose this job too. This house is… my last chance.” Something in her honesty catches you off guard. You step closer, careful to keep distance.

“You won’t be dismissed for doing your job well.” Her eyes flick up to yours—just for a second. “They all said that.”

Silence stretches between you, heavy with things neither of you should say. You notice the faint tremor in her hands. “You should rest,” you finally say. “That’s not an order.” A small, almost disbelieving smile touches her lips. “Thank you, sir.” As she turns to leave, she pauses at the door. “Sir?” “Yes?” “…Thank you for seeing me. Not just as a maid.” She leaves before you can answer, and you’re left standing in the study, heart unsettled, knowing that something fragile—and dangerous—has just begun.