If This Isn't Love

#ITIL05

IF THIS ISN'T LOVE CHAPTER 05

After the fight, we had the other day. I woke up to the dull light of dawn filtering through the curtains of my small, cramped bedroom. The soft, golden rays touched my face, dragging me out of the uneasy sleep that never seemed to refresh me. With a heavy sigh, I rolled over and stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore the familiar weight settling in my chest. Today was just another day in the gilded cage that was the Knight estate. Tristan.

For as long as I could remember, my family had served their family. Not that they were royalty or anything—just another rich family with too much money and too many expectations. I never understood why we had to serve them. We were all just humans, weren't we? Flesh and blood, the same as them. But my questions never got answers that made sense, just vague platitudes about duty and tradition. I didn't buy it.

Pulling myself out of bed, I went through the motions of getting ready for another day of pretending everything was fine. After our hitted encounter in the library, he never stops getting on my nerves. Every single time, we always encounter in different situations, places, and circumstances. I don't even know why and I hate it to the bone.

The creak of my door as I opened it was too loud in the early morning silence. I winced, hoping I hadn't disturbed anyone. I slipped down the hallway and descended the grand staircase, my footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. A grand carpet to be exact and to be honest, this house is like a palace.

The kitchen was already bustling when I arrived. The rich aroma of frying bacon and fresh coffee filled the air, mingling with the sounds of clattering pans and murmured conversations. My mother stood at the center of it all, orchestrating the morning chaos with the ease of long practice. She looked up as I entered, a warm smile spreading across her face.

"Morning, Juliette," she called, waving me over. "Come and help us with breakfast."

I rolled my eyes but made my way to her side. It wasn't like I had a choice. "What do you need me to do?"

"Can you start on the fruit salad? We're a bit behind this morning," she said, nodding towards a counter piled high with fresh produce.

"Sure," I muttered, grabbing a knife and starting to slice strawberries. The repetitive motion was almost soothing, allowing my mind to wander.

"How's school these days?" my mother asked, glancing at me from the stove where she was turning bacon.

Ang ibang maids ay may kaniya-kaniyang ginagawa. May mga nag aayos ng hapagkainan, mayroong naglilinis sa salas at sa iba pang parte ng mansion, may naghuhugas ng pinggan, mayroon ring nasa garden para gawin ang daily routine nila at ang mga hardener sa bakuran. They have a lot of people. And all of them are hired to serve this family like us.

"It's fine,"

I replied automatically. In truth, school was a bit of nightmare. Tristan made sure of that. The perfect golden boy in public, but a devil in private. He delighted in making my life miserable, and there was no escape—not at the campus, not at home. I was trapped in this twisted existence with him always lurking, always ready to pounce.

My mother's concerned eyes rested on me for a moment, but she said nothing more. She had her own burdens to bear, and I didn't want to add to them. Silence fell between us, filled only with the sounds of cooking and the quiet chatter of the other maids.

"Juliette, kapag tapos ka na riyan, pakitawag mo si Sir Tristan sakaniyang kwarto? Sure ako gising na iyong binata na iyon," my mother said, breaking the silence.

I stiffened, my knife pausing mid-slice. "Do I have to?" I couldn't keep the distaste out of my voice.

"Oo anak, kailangan. He's probably in his room. Sige na at pakitawag mo na siya, please," she said, her tone brooking no argument.