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milayah.
The next time I wake up in this bedroom after being unconscious I'm jumping out of the window.
As I slowly regain consciousness, the soft morning light filters through the gap in the curtains, casting a gentle glow in the bedroom.
Everything was a blur at first- a haze of satin sheets and ornate furniture. I blink, trying to orient myself, and my gaze lands on the figure of a maid I had never seen before carefully placing clothes into what I assume is my wardrobe.
The woman was young, probably not much older than me. Her blonde hair reached a short bob above her shoulders, and she moved with a quiet grace, a contrast to the colours in the room.
Confusion washes over me as I watch her place clothes that were most definitely not mine into the walk in wardrobe.
"Excuse me," I croak out, my voice hoarse from the sleep. Said maid turns around with a start, her eyes wide and surprised. We lock gazes for a moment, and her cheeks colour slightly.
"You're awake, Miss," she murmurs, her voice soft and respectful. "How are you feeling?"
I try to sit up, feeling a dull ache in my head. "I...I'm not sure. What happened?"
She hesitates, her hands clasping together nervously. "You fainted while on a journey with Mr. Flores, Miss. The doctor looked after you last night and he said you needed to eat and to rest."
Her explanation makes me even more confused, but I could sense the sincerity in her words. "Thank you," I reply, my tone uncertain, "And who are you?"
The maid blushes again, her blue eyes flickering down briefly. "I'm Naila, Miss. I'm in charge of looking after you."
She quietly resumes her task, arranging the last of the clothes inside the wardrobe. I observe her quietly, intrigued by the delicate beauty and air of shyness that surrounded her.
I sigh. "I'm sorry.. Naila," I breathe out, confused and pained from head to toe, "I don't remember much, but it's nice to meet you."
Her smile was hesitant but genuine. "Likewise, Miss. Please don't hesitate to let me know if you need anything."
"Call me Milayah."
**
The warmth of the shower envelops me as I step out onto the marble tiles, the scent of lavender lingering in the air. I wrap myself in one of the plush robes, relishing in the softness against my skin.
Feeling utterly defeated, I dress in one of the tons of matching pyjama sets I had found in the closet, my mind thinking non stop about the conversation I had overheard in the car.
