The afternoon sun was warm as Nora worked outside, basket in hand, picking herbs from the garden. Her hair was tied back, and soft beads of sweat lined her forehead. She wiped them away with her sleeve, humming quietly.
Suddenly, little voices shouted from the gate.
"Nora!"
She looked up quickly. A smile broke across her face the moment she saw the familiar group of children standing at the entrance. Nora glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then set the basket aside and ran toward them, arms open wide.
The kids wrapped themselves around her legs, hugging and giggling. One of them handed her a small piece of cake.
"We saved this for you!"
Nora chuckled, ruffling their hair. "You're too sweet," she whispered, sneaking bites of the cake.
What she didn't know was that Zayan was sitting quietly on the rooftop, his arms folded across his chest, watching everything unfold. From his high perch, he smiled to himself as she laughed with the children—so soft, so alive, so… free.
Meanwhile, in the grand living room, Catalina called for her son.
"Zayan, darling."
He entered the room, hands in his pockets. "Yes, Mom. You called?"
Beside Catalina stood Nathaira, the daughter of Lady Dariba—Catalina's old friend. She was elegantly dressed, a glint of mischief in her eye.
"She'll be staying with us for a few days," Catalina said smoothly.
Zayan nodded politely, keeping his expression blank. Catalina and Lady Dariba had made a plan—a plan to make Zayan fall for Nathaira. But what they didn't know was simple:
He was already falling for the maid.
That night, everything changed.
Zayan entered his room, tired and drained. But when he opened the door, he paused.
Nathaira was lying on his bed, wearing sheer black lingerie, her long hair cascading over the pillow.
"Hi," she said coyly. "I thought we could get to know each other better… maybe have a little fun?"
Zayan's eyebrows raised in disbelief. He let out a dry chuckle.
"What the hell are you doing in my room?"
"Come on, don't be shy," she said, pouting. "I'm all yours…"
His voice turned cold.
"Get. Out. Now."
She hesitated.
"Zayan, I—"
"I said get out!"
The venom in his tone made her flinch. She scrambled off the bed and ran out, humiliated.
Zayan slammed the door shut and leaned back against it, exhaling. He tried to work at his desk, but something gnawed at his chest. Sleep wouldn't come. His mind was elsewhere.
And so, he did what felt natural now—he went to her.
Nora's room.
She was sitting by the window, quietly singing a lullaby to herself. Her voice was gentle, barely a whisper, yet it soothed the silence around her.
Zayan stepped in quietly. "Nora."
She turned, startled to see him standing there in just a black vest and loose pants, his dark hair messy.
"I can't sleep," he said simply, walking over and laying on her bed like he owned it.
Nora folded her arms.
"Sir, I work for you. I'm a maid… not your toy."
His eyes locked with hers. He sat up, reached out, and gently held her neck—then pressed a slow, soft kiss to her lips.
"You're not a toy," he whispered. "You're the only person that calms me."
Then he lay back down. "Please… just stay."
Nora sighed. Her fingers ran through his hair as he closed his eyes. Within moments, he had fallen asleep, his breath steady, body finally relaxed.
By morning, sunlight poured through the curtains. Zayan opened his eyes and found her sleeping beside him, sitting upright against the wall.
She looked peaceful, bathed in golden light.
He reached out slowly, brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, and kissed her cheek gently before slipping out of the room.
Nora returned to work without a word. She swept, dusted, and greeted the others like always.
Later that day, Nathaira approached her, eyes narrowed.
"Get me a drink," she ordered, snapping her fingers.
Nora simply nodded and obeyed. Nathaira was a brat—spoiled, entitled, and completely unaware of the world outside her pretty bubble. Zayan couldn't stand her, but his mother insisted she stay.
So, for now… he endured.
Two hours later, the maids gathered in the hallway for a break. Laughter filled the air—until a loud gunshot rang out in the distance.
Nora flinched in fear.
Mrs. Jane placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"It's alright, dear. We hear it all the time here," she said with a smile. "Nothing to worry about."
Nora nodded nervously, heart pounding.
Later that evening, after finishing her chores, Nora left for the orphanage. She had been getting paid £2,000 monthly and always gave half of it to Nana to help with the children.
She entered quietly, cradling a small baby in her arms as she handed Nana the envelope.
Up on the rooftop, Zayan sat again in his favorite spot, away from the noise, away from expectations. His eyes drifted to the orphanage again.
There she was.
Feeding the children. Laughing softly. Glowing in a way no mansion, no gown, no title could ever match.
Nathaira, desperate to find him, was searching the mansion frantically.
But he wasn't hiding.
He was exactly where he wanted to be—watching her.
A little boy tugged Nora's skirt and pointed up.
"That man… he always watches us."
Nora turned, following the boy's gaze.
Her eyes landed on Zayan—seated, arms folded, watching them. Watching her.
He waved.
Surprised, Nora blinked, then smiled faintly.
"That's my boss," she explained. "He always watches the city. Not here, don't worry."
But her heart told her otherwise.
She held the baby closer, kissed her forehead, and gently rocked her to sleep.
Zayan smiled again, softer this time.
Maybe for the first time in his life… he didn't feel like the devil.
He just felt human.