I awoke to the sharp, insistent blare of the alarm clock piercing the early morning silence. Still nestled beneath the warm covers, I stretched my arms overhead, feeling the pleasant pull in my muscles, then rubbed the sleep from my eyes with the heels of my palms. With a deep yawn, I pushed myself upright and gathered my long, dark hair, twisting it neatly into a ponytail and securing it with a simple hair tie.
Today, I needed to rise earlier than usual. The Madrid family's children were scheduled to return to the country the following day, and Mrs. Amalia and I had been tasked with thoroughly cleaning the entire mansion in preparation for their arrival.
From a young age, I had learned to stand on my own two feet.
My father suffered from a chronic heart condition, and I was determined to ease the weight he carried through life. I had never known my mother; she passed away shortly after giving birth to me, or so my father had always said. With no other relatives living nearby, it had always been just the two of us in our modest home.
After making my bed in the small, humble quarters we occupied at the back of the grand mansion, I took a quick, refreshing bath. I dressed efficiently and made my way across the dew-kissed garden path toward the main house. When I stepped inside the spacious kitchen, Mrs. Amalia was already there, moving with practiced efficiency as the comforting aroma of breakfast—freshly brewed coffee, sizzling eggs, and warm bread—filled the air.
"Good morning, Mrs. Amalia," I greeted the elderly woman cheerfully as I stepped into the sunlit kitchen.
Mrs. Amalia turned from the stove, her hands still occupied with the wooden spoon and sizzling pan. She looked me up and down with a familiar, appraising gaze before her weathered face softened into a warm, genuine smile.
She had always taken delight in my bright morning energy, often saying it brought a little extra light into the grand old house.
"Oh, you're here already! Good morning to you too, dear," she replied, her voice kind and slightly raspy from years of early mornings.
Mrs. Amalia had served the Madrid family as a devoted housemaid for over three decades. Having outlived her own family, she had quietly grown old within the walls of this mansion, treating it almost as her home and its occupants as her extended kin.
Without wasting a moment, I moved efficiently around the large dining table, laying out plates, silverware, and crisp white napkins so that breakfast could be served the moment she finished cooking. We always tried to share a quiet meal together before the long day of chores began.
"Where's your father this morning?" Mrs. Amalia asked, glancing over her shoulder while stirring the eggs.
"He's still doing his exercises," I replied, carefully folding the last napkin into place.
Every morning, without fail, my father performed his carefully prescribed exercises to maintain his fragile health. Living with a chronic heart condition was a constant challenge; even the slightest strain could steal his breath away and threaten to claim his life in an instant.
"Okay, let's have breakfast first so we can start our work properly," Mrs. Amalia said, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Wait! Where's Joy?" I asked suddenly, remembering my friend.
Joy was Mrs. Amalia's niece. From the day I began working as a housemaid at the mansion, Joy and I had become close friends.
We attended the same school, and the Madrid couple had generously covered all our educational expenses, allowing us both to continue our studies despite our circumstances.
The Madrid family was renowned for their kindness and generosity. They took genuine pleasure in helping those in need, especially the servants who had become an integral part of their household.
"I think she's in the side garden watering the plants," Mrs. Amalia replied, nodding toward the French doors that opened onto the terrace.
I excused myself and immediately made my way to the garden flanking the east side of the mansion.
I walked slowly and quietly across the dew-dampened grass, careful not to startle my friend. Joy was easily frightened, and I often couldn't resist gently teasing her.
As I approached, I paused for a moment to admire the breathtaking scenery. My eyes were drawn to the vibrant tapestry of flowers in full bloom. The entire garden resembled a private paradise, bursting with colorful roses, lilies, hydrangeas, and fragrant jasmine. At its heart stood an elegant stone fountain, its gentle cascading water bringing a soothing melody and refreshing coolness to the air.
Madam Lucia had a particular passion for orchids, and her exquisite collection drew admiring visitors from across the city who came specifically to stroll through this floral sanctuary.
I was quietly creeping forward, ready to sneak up behind Joy as she tended to the plants, when a sudden, sharp bark shattered the morning stillness. I spun around to see Amber, my beloved poodle, bounding energetically across the garden toward me.
Her eyes sparkled with pure excitement as she leaped into the air, clearly demanding a hug. She barked incessantly, her fluffy tail wagging so vigorously that her entire body seemed to wiggle with joy.
"Shh… Please be quiet, Amber," I whispered urgently, crouching down to calm her. "You're being far too noisy."
Amber was irresistibly adorable. She was a medium-sized poodle with soft, chocolate-brown curly fur that bounced with every movement. I had found her one stormy afternoon outside the mansion gates—drenched, shivering, and utterly lost. I had brought her inside, dried her off, and cared for her. From that day on, I had fallen completely in love with the little dog, and she had become my loyal companion.
"Aha! You were planning to scare me again, weren't you?" Joy exclaimed, turning around with a knowing smile.
I straightened up and grinned at my friend.
Joy had long grown accustomed to my playful surprises. Meanwhile, Amber refused to be ignored; she continued barking and jumping around my legs, her small paws tapping impatiently on the stone path.
"Oh, Amber, your voice is so loud. That's exactly why Joy heard us coming," I said with mock sullenness, gently scolding the enthusiastic dog.
"Don't blame the poor dog," Joy replied, her laughter ringing through the garden. I chuckled softly.
"My day would be absolutely perfect if I could actually manage to surprise you for once," I teased, still laughing.
"You're lucky you're my friend," Joy replied with a playful glare as she set down the watering hose she had been holding. "If you weren't, I would pinch you somewhere far more painful every single time."
Joy and I were close friends, almost like sisters. We were the same age, yet our personalities differed greatly. While I loved teasing and playing lighthearted pranks, Joy was the more serious and composed one, which only made teasing her all the more enjoyable.
"Why are you up so early today?" she asked, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Have you forgotten?" I replied, barely able to contain my amusement.
"We're having a special celebration today."
"Celebration? What kind of celebration?" Joy's eyes widened in genuine surprise. "Auntie didn't mention anything to me!"
I burst into laughter at my friend's shocked expression. I had successfully fooled her once again, and the sight of her confusion was utterly priceless.
"Come on!" I said, still laughing as I grabbed her arm and gently dragged her toward the kitchen. "Let's have breakfast first. You'll figure it out soon enough."
When we entered the kitchen, we found my father, Arthuro, and Mrs. Amalia already seated at the large wooden table, beginning their breakfast. The four of us gathered together and enjoyed the warm meal as a small, makeshift family.
The following morning, the Madrid family arrived early, just as the first golden rays of sunlight touched the grand mansion. They were greeted at the entrance with warm smiles and respectful welcomes from the household staff. However, everyone immediately noticed that Madam Lucia's youngest daughter wore a deep frown—an expression highly unusual for her, especially when surrounded by her family.
Is something wrong with her? I wondered silently to myself.
My gaze drifted almost involuntarily toward Nathan, Madam Lucia's eldest son. He stood tall and strikingly handsome, with an effortless confidence that seemed to command the room. The moment my eyes settled on him, a strange, unfamiliar flutter stirred in my chest, warm and unexpected. Without realizing it, a soft smile curved my lips.
I snapped back to reality when Joy poked me sharply in the side. For the first time in my life, I felt a genuine spark of interest in a man. At my age, I knew I was still young, yet I had never imagined I could feel this way—so suddenly and so intensely.
Deep down, however, I understood the painful truth. Nothing could ever come of these feelings. We lived in entirely different worlds. Someone like Nathan—privileged, educated, and destined for a life of comfort—could never belong with a poor housemaid like me.
Joy poked me again, harder this time, as I had zoned out once more. Her forehead furrowed with concern as she stared at me intently.
"What are you thinking about?" she whispered.
"Nothing," I replied, my voice distant and blank. "I was just… amazed at how handsome Nathan is. I didn't realize he looked like that."
"Hmm… What?" Joy's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Do you like him?"
"Hey, no!" I answered defensively, my cheeks growing warm.
"Hmm… Liar. Admit it," she teased, her voice light and playful.
"Don't make any noise," I begged in a hushed tone, glancing nervously toward the living room.
"Nobody can hear us."
The entire Madrid family had gathered in the elegant living room, their voices mingling warmly. Meanwhile, Ara and Joy remained hidden in the kitchen, quietly peeking out from behind the doorway.
With the whole family now back under one roof, they both hoped everyone would settle in harmoniously.
Ara knew she would be very busy in the coming weeks. The new school year had already begun, and in exchange for Don Benedict and Madam Lucia's generosity in covering her education, she was determined to balance her studies perfectly with her household responsibilities.
NATHAN POV
I woke up unusually early, jolted awake by the significant time difference and the unfamiliar weather. Having been brought to the United States at a young age by my adoptive parents, my body had still not fully adjusted to the rhythm of life here.
Seeking something to help me drift back to sleep, I made my way to the kitchen for a glass of milk. As I entered, my eyes were drawn to the wall clock—it was only six in the morning, far too early for the household to be stirring.
To my surprise, a woman stood on a chair in the dimly lit kitchen, stretching to reach something on the top shelf. She wore a soft pink uniform that accentuated her slender figure. Her long, straight hair cascaded down her back, and her skin appeared remarkably smooth and pale under the faint glow of the overhead light.
I secretly smiled as I watched her from the doorway. I hadn't noticed her yesterday when we first arrived at the estate. Whose daughter is she? I wondered, momentarily forgetting she was dressed in a maid's uniform.
"A-Ahm…" I cleared my throat softly, hoping to draw her attention without startling her.
The sound caught her off guard. She jolted on the precarious wooden chair, her body swaying unsteadily as her hands flailed in search of something—anything—to steady herself. Before I could step forward, her balance gave way completely.
"A-Ahhhh!" she cried out in panic.
I lunged instinctively, arms outstretched, and managed to catch her just inches above the polished marble floor. Yet the momentum of her falling body was stronger than I anticipated. It threw me off balance as well, and we both tumbled to the ground in a tangled heap.
She landed directly on top of me, her slender frame pressing against mine. In the chaos of the moment, our lips accidentally brushed together in a fleeting, unintended kiss. Her arms had instinctively wrapped tightly around my neck, and her eyes were squeezed shut in fear. For a breathless second, time seemed to stop as I stared at her face—mere inches from my own.
Even in her simple maid's attire, she possessed an angelic beauty that was utterly disarming. Her features were delicate and refined: a perfectly shaped nose, soft, flushed cheeks, and full lips that still lingered close to mine. My heart hammered wildly in my chest as I realized just how strikingly beautiful she was.
An inexplicable warmth surged through me as her lips brushed against mine. The softness of her mouth and the unexpected heat of her body pressed against me sent a jolt of electricity coursing through every nerve, igniting something deep and primal within.
Though I had spent nearly twenty years growing up in the United States, at twenty-one I still couldn't fully escape the deep-rooted Filipino blood that pulsed in my veins. My heart, my instincts, my very essence remained undeniably tied to my heritage.
"Oh my God! I'm so sorry, Sir!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with genuine panic.
She scrambled to her feet with surprising agility, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. Extending a slender hand, she offered to help me up, though she kept her gaze averted, as if afraid to meet my eyes. She bent slightly forward, her posture hesitant and demure.
"Whoa! You're lucky to have stolen my first kiss," I teased, a playful grin tugging at my lips as I took her hand and rose to my feet.
"Sir Nathan, I'm truly sorry," she murmured, still refusing to look directly at me, her voice soft and trembling with embarrassment.
I smiled again, unable to suppress it. Her beauty was mesmerizing—enough to rob any man of his composure and sanity. We were both young, yet in that fleeting moment, I felt an irresistible pull I couldn't ignore.
"It's okay," I said gently, offering her a reassuring smile. I turned away and walked toward the kitchen fridge, hoping the cool air might calm the heat still lingering in my chest.
"Thank you, Sir!" she called after me, her tone polite and deferential.
"Drop the 'Sir,'" I replied, glancing back at her. "Just call me Nathan."
"But you're one of our bosses," she protested softly, her refusal polite yet firm, her eyes still downcast.
"No buts, dear. I'm not one of your bosses, so you will do as I say," I said with gentle but firm emphasis.
"N-Nathan…" she repeated hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper, testing the name on her tongue as a faint blush crept across her cheeks.
"From now on, your tongue will get used to calling my name," I replied, unable to hide the playful smile spreading across my face.
"Thank you… Nathan," she murmured softly, her eyes still shyly lowered.
After retrieving my drink from the fridge, I turned to leave the kitchen, intending to return to my room and salvage what remained of the night for sleep. Yet just as I reached the doorway, I paused, realizing I hadn't even asked for her name.
"Ah… wait," I called out, turning back. "What's your name?"
"Ara… Ara Sandoval," she replied, her voice quiet but clear.
"Okay. Nice meeting you, Ara," I said with a warm smile.
I headed back to my room, but sleep had become the furthest thing from my mind. The unexpected encounter had left me wide awake, my thoughts buzzing. I set the glass of milk on the bedside table and threw myself onto the soft, expansive bed.
Lying there, I stared up at the ceiling, but all I could see was Ara's face—her delicate features, the flush on her cheeks, and the lingering memory of her lips so close to mine.
For the first time in my life, a woman had invaded my thoughts so completely, so effortlessly. I closed my eyes, hoping the darkness would blot out her image, yet even in the quiet solitude of my room, I could still feel the phantom warmth of her soft lips and catch the faint, intoxicating scent of her skin that seemed to cling to the air around me.
"Oh shit," I muttered under my breath, frustration and confusion mingling in my voice. I grabbed a pillow and hurled it against the wall with more force than necessary. I was losing my sanity. I had only just met her—seen her for mere minutes—yet why did she already occupy my mind like this?