Chapter 29: Not My Maid
Keres entered the new house, and several maids immediately approached her. They took her briefcase and coat—still the same service she received back in her parents’ mansion, but different now.
This was hers and Asteria’s place now. Their new home as a married couple. The thought settled oddly in her chest, neither comfortable nor unwelcome. She had lived in grand estates before, cold and imposing places filled with servants who moved like ghosts.
But this house felt different. It smelled different. It breathed different.
"Where’s Asteria?" Keres asked coldly. She let one maid touch her shoes and change them into comfortable flip-flop slippers, her arms remaining at her sides as the woman worked quickly and efficiently.
"She’s in the kitchen, Young Master. Madam is cooking."
Keres’s expression remained the same, unreadable and distant. Her face betrayed nothing—no curiosity, no warmth, no sign that the words had affected her at all, not even her earlier words that made Asteria cry.
But when she walked toward the dining area where the kitchen was also located, her footsteps slowed without her permission. She stopped and her eyes locked on Asteria’s figure.
Asteria stood there in that brown apron, her hair pulled up in a ponytail. Loose strands had escaped and clung to the sides of her face, damp with sweat. She was cutting some meat, the knife moved with ease in her hand.
Each slice was measured. Her sweat made her porcelain, white skin glisten under the chandelier and lights in the area. A thin sheen of perspiration clung to her forehead and the back of her neck, catching the light like tiny crystals.
She was serious about cooking. The way her gaze stayed fixed on what she was doing, with undivided attention—no distractions, no wandering eyes. The rest of the world had fallen away for her.
There was only the knife, the meat, the quiet movements of her preparation. Asteria didn’t even notice Keres had arrived. She was lost in her work, her lips pressed together in concentration, her brow slightly furrowed.
Keres didn’t bother announcing herself. She just watched her wife cook.
The minutes stretched. The kitchen hummed with the soft sounds of cooking—the sizzle of oil, the simmer of broth, the gentle clink of utensils against ceramic. Keres stood still with her arms crossed, the way she observed her was deep and focused.
She watched the way Asteria’s hands moved, confident and sure despite her earlier stuttering. She watched the way Asteria’s shoulders relaxed when she thought no one was looking. She watched the small smile that flickered across Asteria’s face when she tasted something and found it good.
The aroma of whatever Asteria was preparing drifted through the air—rich, savory, warm. It wrapped around Keres like a blanket, unfamiliar and inviting.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had smelled something like this in a home she lived in. Usually, the kitchens were too far away, the food was too impersonal. But this—this smelled like someone had poured care into every ingredient.
Her stomach churned slightly, and she clutched her stomach almost imperceptibly. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had cooked for her. Not a chef, not a servant, but a person who actually cared whether she ate or not. The realization sat heavily in her chest.
A few moments later, Asteria finished. She carefully transferred the meat and soup into a white bowl, her movements gentle and deliberate. Steam rose from the dishes, carrying that wonderful smell with it. She was about to walk toward the dining table when her gaze finally landed on Keres.
Asteria froze.
"U-Uhm..." Asteria didn’t know what to say. She suddenly felt her throat tighten a little, the words catching somewhere between her chest and her mouth and it made her heart lurched.
"How long had Keres been standing there? How much had she seen?" The questions raced through her mind, none of them finding answers.
She averted her gaze downward, unable to hold Keres’s stare, and immediately put the soup on the dining table. Her hands trembled slightly, rattling the bowl against the wood.
"Err... Y-You should eat now."
Her voice was small, almost swallowed by the silence of the room.
Keres didn’t answer for a moment. She stood composed and straight, processing her words for a moment before her gaze swept across the dining table.
She noticed that there was only one plate on the table. The food was arranged beautifully—meat, soup, rice, vegetables—but only a single set of utensils waited beside it.
A single bowl, a single glass, a single chair pulled out.
The table was set for one.
Keres sighed and approached the table. Her footsteps were unhurried. She sat at the head, her usual position, and picked up her fork and spoon. The metal was cool against her fingers. But she stopped mid-air when she noticed Asteria serving her instead of sitting beside her.
Asteria spooned soup into Keres’s bowl with careful hands, her head still bowed. She moved like someone who expected to be dismissed at any moment, like she was waiting for the inevitable cruelty to arrive. The ladle trembled slightly as she poured, a few drops splashing onto the tablecloth.
"What are you doing?" Keres asked. She looked at Asteria with an unreadable emotion in her eyes—not anger or not confusion, but something softer. Something Asteria couldn’t name. Something that made the air between them feel heavier.
"Uhm... N-Nothing. I-I... I’m serving you." Asteria continued to stutter, her voice barely above a whisper. She kept her eyes fixed on the food, afraid of what she might see if she looked up.
Afraid of disappointment and hope.
"No. Sit beside me." Keres set her utensils down. The clink of metal against wood made Asteria flinch. "You’re my wife, not my maid. Even if we’re married only on paper, treating you right is just the bare minimum."
Keres admitted it so simply, so matter-of-factly, like it was obvious. Like she hadn’t just shattered every expectation Asteria had been holding or rewritten every rule Asteria had been taught to live by.
Asteria’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink. The color spread from her cheeks down to her neck, warm and undeniable. It bloomed across her skin like she’s a steamed tomato.
She averted her gaze away from Keres again, and she didn’t know why her heart was thumping so loud. It pounded against her ribs, demanding attention she refused to give. Her hands clutched the serving ladle so tightly her knuckles turned white.
"What is she talking about all of a sudden?! She was supposed to hit and yell at me."
The words ran inside Asteria’s mind as she tried to make sense of Keres’s behavior. This wasn’t what she had prepared for. She had braced herself for cold shoulders and harsh words, for the kind of treatment she had grown accustomed to. She had steeled herself for indifference, for cruelty, for the quiet misery she had been trained to accept.
Not this. Never this.
Keres stood and Asteria flinched a little, her shoulders hunching forward instinctively. Her body reacted before her mind could catch up—years of conditioning, years of learning to expect pain is still etched in her bones.
Keres’s tall figure immediately towered over her, blocking the light from the chandelier. The shadow fell across Asteria’s face, long and dark. Her breath caught in her throat and she braced herself for Keres’s hand to land on her cheek. She waited to be slapped by her wife and because of that, she squeeze her eyes shut.
The seconds stretched and Asteria waited but no impact came.
Instead, Keres reached past her—close enough that Asteria could smell her perfume, something expensive and subtle—and gently pulled the chair out from the table. The wood scraped softly against the floor.
"Sit down."
It wasn’t a request. But it was a command without a bite—no harshness or no cruelty. Just certainty. A simple statement of fact, as undeniable as gravity.
Asteria struggled to process her words at first. Her mind felt foggy, sluggish, like she was wading through honey. The words didn’t make sense and the situation didn’t make sense.
Nothing about this interaction followed the script she had memorized. But then she slowly sat in the chair, her legs moving on their own, guided by something deeper than thought.
Keres pushed it in so she could sit properly, the gesture so gentle that Asteria almost didn’t believe it was real.
Then Keres sat again in her chair and called one maid over. "Get your madam her own plate." She commanded coldly, the warmth from moments ago vanishing behind her usual mask. The shift was instant—like a door closing.
The maid immediately bowed. "Yes, Young Master." She walked toward the back kitchen to retrieve a clean plate for Asteria, her footsteps quick and efficient.
"K-Keres, aren’t I supposed to be serving you?" Asteria asked innocently. She looked at her wife with wide eyes, genuinely confused. This wasn’t how things worked. This wasn’t what she had been taught. Her fingers twisted in her apron, pulling the fabric as she felt overwhelmed by the sudden treatment.
"Serving?" Keres blinked at her. "What?"
"Serving... Like, I should be doing my duties before I eat... Right?" Asteria’s voice wavered. She sounded uncertain, almost childlike, like someone reciting a rule she didn’t fully understand but had learned to obey anyway.
The words came from a place deep inside her, from years of being told she was less than, that her needs came last, that her hunger didn’t matter.
Keres heard how uncertain she was and immediately shook her head. "I didn’t see my mother do that. And I know my dad wouldn’t allow my mother to do that. In our family, we eat together."
In our family.
The words echoed in Asteria’s chest, bouncing around her ribs, trying to find corners she had forgotten existed. She didn’t know what to do with them, nor didn’t know where to put them.
No one had ever included her like that before. And to Asteria, those spoken three words meant so much to her.
The maid approached and placed Asteria’s plate in front of her. Other maids began serving the two of them—ladling soup, arranging side dishes, refilling water glasses. The dining table was slowly filled with warmth and noise, the clink of silverware and the shuffle of footsteps. Steam rose from the dishes, carrying the rich aroma of home-cooked food.
Asteria’s hand continue to clutched the hem of her apron. The fabric twisted between her fingers as she gathered her courage. Her heart pounded and her throat felt tight. Something inside her was refusing to stay silent.
"Uhm. Keres?"
"Yes?" Keres looked at her, fork halfway to her mouth. She paused to properly look at Asteria.
"Can we let them join us?" Asteria pointed at the maids standing along the walls. There were five of them, lined up like statues, their eyes downcast and their postures became rigid.
Keres’s eyes darted toward them. The maids looked away in an instant, others immediately kept their heads down. None of them dared to breathe too loudly. They had been trained to be invisible, to serve without being seen, to exist only when needed.
"For what?" Keres asked.
"They’re also family, right?"
The question hung in the air. It was so simple, completely unexpected for Keres to hear.
Keres thought about it, the silence stretched between them and by that, the maids also held their breath. Asteria waited, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure everyone could hear it.
Then Keres sighed. "Fine. Get more plates and call the other servants to join us."
When she uttered those words, Asteria’s face lit up with excitement. The pink in her cheeks deepened, but this time it wasn’t from embarrassment. It was from joy that made her eyes sparkle and her lips stretch into a genuine smile.
The smile transformed her entire face, making her look younger, lighter, and freer.
She immediately went to the back kitchen to help the maids get more plates, her footsteps light and quick. She nearly skipped, her ponytail bouncing behind her.
The other maids froze for a moment, exchanging glances of disbelief. None of them had ever been invited to eat with their employers before and none of them had ever been called family.
But then they immediately went to help Asteria, their movements hurried and eager. The kitchen erupted into quiet chaos—plates clattering, voices murmuring, chairs scraping against the floor.
Asteria directed everyone with surprising efficiency, her earlier shyness melting away as she worked. She knew where everything was. She knew how many people were in the house. She counted heads, pulled out chairs, and arranged seats like she had been doing it her whole life.
The other maids filtered in from other parts of the house—the laundry room, the garden, the upstairs bedrooms. They came with confused expressions and hesitant steps, unsure if this was a test or a trap. But when they saw Asteria smiling and waving them over, their uncertainty faded.
Soon, the dining table was full of them. Servants sat beside each other, their postures still respectful but slowly relaxing. Someone laughed—a genuine, surprised laugh—and the sound filled the room like sunlight.
Keres watched it all unfold from her seat at the head of the table.
She watched Asteria pull out a chair for an elderly maid who had been with the family for decades.
She watched Asteria serve soup to a young girl who looked like she hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days.
She watched Asteria chat with everyone, asking their names, remembering their answers, treating each person like they mattered.
And as Keres started to eat, a small smile formed at the corners of her lips.
She found Asteria’s kindness odd. Endearing, even. In all her years, she had never met a woman who wanted to let maids and other servants eat with her. Everyone else she knew treated staff like furniture—useful, invisible, replaceable. They existed to serve and then disappear.
But Asteria saw them. Really saw them.
Keres took another sip of the soup and let the warmth spread through her chest. The flavors were rich and complex, layered with care and attention. She could taste the effort in every spoon she put in her mouth.
Maybe this marriage wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Across the table, Asteria caught her eye and smiled—not the hesitant, fearful smile from before, but something genuine. Something hopeful.
Keres didn’t smile back. But she also didn’t look away.
And for now, that was enough.
