Not all monsters live under the bed or in the bush . Some sit at the breakfast table, smiling like fathers.
The night clung to Mia's skin like sweat, thick and suffocating. She stood frozen, with a mop in her hand, her heart slamming wildly against her ribs.
Mr. Williams leaned against the doorway, eyes raking over her in a way that made her insides curdle.
"You've grown so pretty," he murmured, voice low and intimate.
Mia's fingers clenched the mop tighter.
"You know," he continued, stepping closer, "if you let me take care of you properly, I can make your life here very different. You deserve more than just cleaning and cooking. You could enjoy all the privileges Emily, Lily, and Ryan enjoy. New clothes. Money. Even school abroad, if you wanted."
She took a step back, her spine pressing against the wall. "You're my father."
His gaze darkened slightly. "Stepfather," he corrected. "It's not the same."
Disgust twisted in her stomach.
"You're like a father to me," she said, voice trembling but defiant. "I've always seen you as my father. This is wrong. I'll scream."
His eyes narrowed. "Who would believe you? Your mother? Emily? You think they'd take your word over mine?" he said as he got closer, trying to touch her more.
"I'll scream loud enough for Lily to hear!" she snapped, fear laced with desperation. "She'll come running!"
For a moment, silence hung like a blade in the air. His jaw ticked.
Then he stepped back with a sigh, straightening his shirt. "You're stubborn," he muttered. "But remember, stubborn girls in this house suffer the most."
He walked off, just like that. As if nothing had happened.
Mia stood there shaking for a long time, cold sweat trickling down her neck. She didn't move until she heard the faint click of his bedroom door.
⸻
The next morning, Mia woke before the sun. Her body ached from sleeping on the floor, but her mind was heavier than her bones.
She didn't cry. She couldn't. The tears were stuck somewhere behind her ribs, her dark under-eyes showing she hadn't had a good night's rest.
She washed dishes, swept the front yard, and folded laundry while her mother and stepsisters slept peacefully in their air-conditioned rooms. Mr. Williams sat at the table reading the papers as if he hadn't tried to touch her the day before. His face was the picture of calm and a good father.
He even smiled at her. "Good girl," he said as she served him breakfast.
She wanted to throw the tray at his face. But she didn't dare to.
⸻
School didn't offer any peace.
Mia stared blankly at her test paper, the words swimming in front of her. Her fingers trembled as she held her pen, unable to concentrate, as she thought of her remaining days in the Williams' house and how hard it would be. Questions blurred together. Time ticked loudly. When the bell rang, she realized she hadn't written more than her name.
Outside during lunch break, she sat on the concrete bench alone, eyes glued to her untouched bread roll.
"Hey," Jake's voice called softly.
She didn't look up.
He sat beside her anyway, his backpack hitting the ground with a thud. "You flunked the test."
She didn't answer.
"You never flunk tests, Mia."
Still, silence.
Jake turned to face her fully, his voice quieter now. "Talk to me."
"I'm fine."
"You're not." He leaned closer. "Did someone do something to you?"
Mia's chest tightened. Her throat ached with unshed words.
"I told you before," Jake said firmly, "you're not alone. You have me. If anything's wrong, tell me. I'll protect you."
That made her look at him, finally. Her eyes were red but dry. "You're nineteen, Jake. I'm seventeen. You're still young yourself. How can you protect me when you don't even have power over your own life?"
His expression faltered for a moment, but he didn't look away. "Because I care. And sometimes, caring is stronger than anything else. A problem shared is half solved."
Their eyes locked. Something unspoken passed between them.
Just then, two girls walked by and giggled.
"Look," one of them whispered. "The handsome class rep is talking to the maid girl."
"She probably begged him for exam answers."
Laughter followed.
Mia's shoulders tensed, and she turned away.
Jake's eyes followed the girls with quiet fury, but he said nothing. Instead, he looked back at Mia and gently placed a carton of orange juice in front of her.
"Drink something. Please. And get whatever's on your mind out. If you don't want to talk about it, it's fine. I respect your decision," he said as he moved back to his seat.
⸻
That evening at home, the tension returned like a second skin.
Mr. Williams was all smiles again, offering Mia her favorite fruit and asking her how school went. His voice was sweet. Too sweet.
She said nothing, only nodded. Every time he walked too close, her heart would race.
Even little Lily, although she was just thirteen, noticed something wasn't right. But her mother didn't even spare Mia a glance to know if she was alive, let alone to sense her mood.
Lily was small and sharp-eyed. At night, when the house was quiet and everyone else was asleep, she tiptoed into Mia's tiny servant room holding snacks and biscuits.
"I saved these from Emily's stash," she whispered, sitting on the floor beside her.
Mia forced a smile. "Thanks, Lily."
Lily peered at her closely. "Why are you so quiet today? Did something happen?"
Mia shook her head. "Nothing," she said, forcing out a smile. She had always been like that—always smiling, no matter the situation.
Lily frowned. "Don't lie."
"I'm not."
"You always smile a little when you lie," Lily said.
Mia gave a soft chuckle, but her eyes were empty. "I'm just tired."
Lily didn't believe her, but she didn't push further. She leaned her head on Mia's shoulder.
"You're my best friend," she whispered. "You can tell me anything. Don't worry, I'm really trying to grow up as early as possible so I can protect you. Wait for me. When I grow up, I will protect you," she said innocently.
Mia felt her throat tighten again. She wrapped an arm around Lily, holding her close.
"I know," she said. "And you're the only one who sees me. I can't wait for you, my little Lily, to grow up and protect me," she said as she patted her hair.
⸻
The next morning, Emily was at it again.
"You call this ironed?" she snapped, throwing a shirt at Mia. "It's wrinkled like your future!"
Mia caught the shirt silently, her jaw clenched.
"I don't know why Mom lets you stay here," Emily muttered. "You eat our food, sleep under our roof, and still act like some tragic princess. So pitiful."
"Leave her alone," Lily snapped from the hallway.
Emily turned. "Stay out of it, brat."
"She's not your maid. She does everything in this house!"
Emily rolled her eyes. "Why do you defend her like she's your blood sister? She's not. Don't be fooled by her innocent smile—she's just exactly what Mom said she is."
"She's better than a sister," Lily shot back. "She's human."
Emily huffed and stormed off.
Mia turned to Lily with a grateful smile. "You didn't have to do that."
Lily shrugged. "You are my sister, and you always will be."
⸻
That night, Mia lay awake staring at the ceiling. The air was still, but her thoughts were a storm.
Should she tell her mother about the situation with her stepfather? What if her mother didn't believe her?
What if… she already knew?
She rolled onto her side, pulling the thin blanket over her trembling body. Her mother loved Mr. Williams. Loved the life he provided. The big house. The fancy car. The private school. The rich outings. The expensive clothes and bags. And Mia didn't think her mother would be able to sacrifice all that for her.
And Mia? Mia was just a remnant from a past marriage. A burden they dressed in hand-me-downs and kept out of sight.
No one would believe her. And if they did, no one would act on it.
Except her little angel… Lily.
But what could they do?
She pressed her fists into her eyes. A tear slipped out anyway.
"I hope what happened yesterday was just a mistake… It won't happen again," she said, assuring herself as she drifted to sleep.
⸻