Guard of heart

The past

The soft hum of the air conditioning was the only sound that filled the room. I sat on the minimalist couch, an ice wrap pressed against my leg, staring blankly at the polished floor. Sleep seemed an impossible luxury tonight. Across the room, Rosalie moved with a grace born of years of routine, adjusting pillows and tidying up with a meticulousness that spoke of a life spent in service.

“You’re still up?” she asked, her voice carrying a hint of concern as she folded a throw blanket over the armchair with practiced ease.

I shrugged, trying to mask my unease. “Yeah, just exploring the nocturnal life of a housekeeper. You know, seeing how the other half lives.” I forced a grin, hoping to lighten the mood.

Rosalie let out a soft chuckle, glancing over at me. “It’s not glamorous, but someone’s got to keep this place running while you all sleep.” She moved to the windows, tugging the curtains to block out the city’s dim glow.

I watched her work, feeling a pang of guilt for just sitting there. “It’s not the leg, is it?” she asked, still not meeting my gaze.

I hesitated, then shook my head. “Nah, the leg’s fine,” I said, lifting the ice pack slightly. “I’m just... thinking about home. You know, the usual. My dad, my sister, bills... adulting, the whole shebang.” I forced a laugh, though it came out strained.

Rosalie’s eyes softened as she looked at me. She continued her task, every movement deliberate and calming. “You miss them?”

I fidgeted with the ice pack, trying to deflect the seriousness. “Miss them? Oh, no. I’m living the dream here, Rosalie. Fancy mansion, late-night ice packs, and the thrilling company of—” I gestured around the empty room, “—well, myself.”

I expected a laugh, but Rosalie just gave me a knowing look that seemed to say, *You’re not fooling me.* She didn’t press, but instead came over and sat beside me, her presence comforting yet unobtrusive.

I shifted, pulling the ice wrap tighter around my leg. “Okay, maybe I miss them a little. I’m here for a reason, you know? To pay the bills and take care of things. But more than that i want to move my sister and dad to a new house, one I can afford with my own money and..My sister, she’s been taking care of Dad alone, working tirelessly in a cake factory.“ i continued “And also i want to see my sister go to college without having flour in her hair, just like any other girl following her dreams.” I smiled faintly, though the weight of it all made my chest tighten. “That’s my dream.” I swallowed hard, feeling the familiar lump rise in my throat. I tried to laugh again, but it came out shaky. “But hey, you know, we’re all fine.I know i will make it.”

Rosalie nodded, her eyes filled with quiet understanding. She remained silent, letting me speak. I looked away, embarrassed by the tears welling up.

“You’re thinking about her a lot tonight, aren’t you?” she asked gently.

I rubbed my eyes, trying to maintain my composure. “Nah, it’s fine. She gave up everything to care for me—sacrificed college for a bakery job. But no pressure, right? I’ll just become a big-shot secretary, make loads of money, and pay her back. No big deal.” I attempted a smile, but it faltered.

Rosalie’s hand found my shoulder, a gentle squeeze that spoke volumes. Her touch made my chest tighten, and before I knew it, tears pricked at my eyes. I quickly wiped them away, trying to hide my vulnerability.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, “I’m not usually like this. I don’t really do the ‘crying’ thing.”

Rosalie’s face softened, and before I could react, she pulled me into a warm embrace. It wasn’t a demanding hug but one that simply offered comfort. I melted into her arms, tears falling freely now, and for once, I didn’t try to stop them.

When she pulled back, I wiped my face, feeling embarrassed. “Great, now I’m crying all over your nice clean floors. That’s probably against house rules, right?” I attempted to joke, but my voice cracked.

Rosalie smiled softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “If that’s the worst mess I have to deal with, I’ll take it.”

I chuckled through my tears. “You’re really good at this, you know?”

“Take your time,” she said, standing up and adjusting her apron before moving to straighten the picture frames on the mantle. “I’ve been working for Mr. Wilkins for twenty-five years,” she continued, her tone calm but heavy with unspoken history. “And those years weren’t always easy. My husband... he wasn’t kind. He drank heavily, and when he drank, he would become abusive. He’d accuse me of affairs, of neglecting our family, simply because I worked long hours here. The drinking twisted his mind, making him see things that weren’t true. Every night, I prayed for the strength to keep going, not just for me but for my son. There were moments I felt like I couldn’t carry the weight any longer, but seeing my son’s face kept me going. I had to stay strong for him.”

I blinked, feeling a profound sense of humility. “Rosalie, I... I had no idea.”

She shook her head, brushing off my sympathy. “It’s in the past. He’s gone now—drank himself to death. My son’s grown and working for Mr. Wilkins overseas.” Her smile was bittersweet. “I’m proud of him, but there’s still a part of me that wishes things had been different.”

The room fell into a reflective silence, broken only by the distant tick of the clock and the soft rustle of the breeze outside. I sat there, holding the ice pack, feeling the weight of our shared stories.

Rosalie looked at me with kind eyes, full of quiet strength. “We all carry our own burdens, dear. But that doesn’t mean you have to carry yours alone. Once you find your reason to thrive, trust me, nothing can stop you.”

I smiled genuinely, for the first time that night. “Thanks, Rosalie. And, hey, if I’m ever being too much, feel free to hit me with that duster, okay?”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As Rosalie went back to her work, the room seemed warmer, less empty. The soft glow of the lamp and the gentle rustling of Rosalie’s movements created a comforting atmosphere. The walls, once seeming so cold and unfeeling, now felt like they held a little more warmth and understanding.

I sighed, feeling a sense of calm settle over me. “Well, I think I’m going to try to get some sleep. Thanks for listening, Rosalie.”

She gave me a reassuring nod. “Anytime. You take care now.”

I slowly stood up, feeling a bit more centered. I shuffled back to my room, the ice pack still in hand. The house felt quieter, more like a home than just a mansion. I eased into bed, the softness of the mattress welcoming me.

As I pulled the covers up, I found that the weight of my worries had lessened, if only a little. I closed my eyes, feeling the quiet comfort of the night around me, and drifted into a more peaceful sleep than I’d expected.

For the first time tonight, I felt like maybe I wasn’t completely alone, and that perhaps, despite everything, things might just be okay.