Whispers In Florence

Chapter 14: The Weight of Loss

Isabella POV

"Isa! Wake up!" Benedetta's cheerful voice pulled me from sleep, breaking the quiet of our room. "We're going to be late if you don't get up now!"

I groaned, pulling the blanket over my head. It was still early, and the morning light was just starting to shine through the window. But I knew she was right; it was already 6 a.m., and Pietra would not be happy if we were late.

"Just five more minutes," I mumbled, my voice muffled under the blanket.

Benedetta laughed softly. "Five more minutes, and Pietra will have us both scrubbing floors until we drop. Come on, Isa, get up!"

I sighed and slowly sat up, rubbing my eyes. "You're worse than a rooster," I grumbled as I got out of bed. Benedetta was already dressed, her maid's uniform neat and her hair tied back.

She grinned. "Rooster or not, I'm the reason you'll keep your job today. Now hurry, or we'll miss breakfast!"

I laughed and quickly got dressed. "Fine, fine. But one day, I'm going to sleep through everything, and you'll have to face Pietra alone."

Benedetta rolled her eyes playfully. "Yeah, right! And I'll remind her it was all your fault when we're both stuck scrubbing floors for punishment."

Once I was dressed, it was already 7 a.m., and we hurried to start our chores. Our first task was to clean one of the noble bedrooms. The room was huge, with high ceilings covered in paintings and rich tapestries on the walls. The furniture was heavy and expensive, and a thick, fancy rug covered the floor.

But the room was a mess. Clothes were thrown everywhere, shoes scattered around, and papers crumpled on the floor. It looked like a storm had hit it.

Benedetta wrinkled her nose and grabbed a broom. "How do they make such a mess when all they do is sit around in fancy clothes?"

I laughed, picking up a pair of silk stockings by the bed. "I think they're just used to us cleaning up after them."

"Honestly," Benedetta said, shaking her head as she started sweeping. "If I had a room like this, I'd keep it spotless. Look at this bed! How can they even sleep in it when it looks like they wrestled in it?"

I smiled. "Maybe they did."

We worked for almost an hour, grumbling about the mess but laughing as we went. Benedetta always made even the hardest jobs a bit easier. By the time we finished, the room was clean, and the faint scent of lavender soap lingered in the air.

At 8 a.m., we went to the kitchen to wash a big pile of dirty dishes, pots, and pans from the night before. The kitchen was already bustling as the cooks prepared breakfast, filling the air with the smell of fresh bread and roasted meat.

Benedetta and I stood at the sink, our sleeves rolled up. "I think my hands are going to fall off," she complained as she scrubbed a large pan that looked like it hadn't been cleaned in ages.

"At least we're not scrubbing floors again," I joked, working on a stubborn stain. "Though I'm not sure what's worse—dirty floors or greasy dishes."

She groaned. "Both are awful. But you know what's worse? Doing this every day for the rest of our lives."

"Who knows? Maybe one day someone will sweep us off our feet," I said, half-joking.

Benedetta laughed. "Oh sure, maybe a prince disguised as a pot-scrubber."

We spent the next few hours washing dishes and talking about everything—how the nobles lived, where we'd go if we ever left Florence, and dreams of escaping to a far-off place where maids didn't have to work so hard.