I WAS JUST A SERVANT

The air in the mansion had shifted.

It was quiet… too quiet.

The kind of silence that follows a storm but hides another one on the way.

Zenande sat by the window, a soft blanket over her legs, staring into the garden but thinking about the envelope, the photo, and the woman Nokwanda once loved.

Her gut twisted. Not because of jealousy anymore — but because something didn't sit right.

Why now?

Why that photo?

She tapped her fingers on the armrest, deep in thought.

Downstairs, Nokwanda was in the kitchen preparing tea for Mrs. Mthembu. Her movements were slower than usual. She hadn't slept, hadn't eaten much, and hadn't allowed herself to cry again since last night.

She was used to being misunderstood — but never by Zenande.

Just as she turned to leave the kitchen, a soft voice stopped her.

"You look tired."

It was her.

The new cleaning woman. The one who'd been hired by the house manager only a few days ago.

Nokwanda paused. "I'm fine."

The woman smiled. "I can take the tray for you."

"No, thanks," Nokwanda said quickly. "I handle Mrs. Mthembu personally."

"Right," the woman said. "You handle… everything, don't you?"

There was something strange in her tone.

Nokwanda frowned. "Have we met before?"

The woman smiled, but her eyes were sharp. "Not properly. But I know your type."

And with that, she walked away.

Upstairs, Zenande wheeled herself to the study. She opened the security files on the computer — something she hadn't done in months.

She scanned the logs.

Tuesday night: 20:32 — gate opened remotely.

Unknown figure exited on foot.

Camera 4: motion detected. No face captured.

Her eyes narrowed.

She clicked through archived camera footage.

Pause. Zoom.

There. A figure in a hoodie. Dropping something at the gate.

Zenande's heartbeat quickened.

She called the head of security.

"I want all new staff members' IDs rechecked. Especially the ones hired in the last ten days."

Mrs. Mthembu was seated in the sunroom, sipping tea and listening to soft jazz when the new cleaner approached with a tray of fruit.

"Oh, thank you, dear," Mrs. Mthembu said warmly.

"Of course, Ma'am," the woman said, placing the tray down with a gentle smile.

She stayed close — just long enough to be noticed.

"You've done such a fine job with this house," she continued. "Even with all… the drama."

Mrs. Mthembu raised a brow. "Drama?"

"Well," the woman chuckled, "between your daughter and the servant girl… people are starting to talk."

Mrs. Mthembu stiffened.

"I didn't realize gossip was part of your duties."

The woman smiled again. "I just worry for your reputation. Imagine if something scandalous came out about Miss Zenande and that girl."

"That girl," Mrs. Mthembu said sharply, "has done more to help my daughter than anyone else in the last two years. So if this is the part where you try to feed me poison with politeness, you can drop the act."

The woman's smile vanished.

She turned away silently.

But something in her eyes said: This isn't over.

Zenande rolled into Nokwanda's room late that night.

"I think someone planted that photo on purpose," she said.

Nokwanda looked up, stunned. "You… believe me?"

"I believe something is off. The timing. The delivery. The message."

She handed Nokwanda a printed still from the security footage.

"This person wore gloves and a hoodie. They knew where the cameras couldn't see."

Nokwanda stared at it. "Who would go through all that trouble?"

"I don't know yet. But I've asked the head of security to run facial matches and check all new staff IDs."

She paused, then added softly, "I'm sorry for doubting you. I let fear speak louder than trust."

Nokwanda blinked back tears. "You had every right to be hurt."

"But not to punish you for your past."

Zenande moved closer. "We all have things we wish we could rewrite."

They sat in silence for a moment.

Then Zenande reached for her hand.

"Let's rewrite this… together."

In the staff quarters, the woman in disguise typed a message on her phone:

She's digging. The mother didn't buy it. The girl's still in the house.

New plan needed.

She hit send.

Then opened a drawer beside her bed.

Inside was an old phone.

On the screen was a photo… of Nokwanda.

And beside her?

The same married woman.

Except this time, the photo was recent.

Taken only weeks ago.