The room went silent.

The woman on the sofa stared at him.

“Your what?”

The man didn’t even look at her.

He dropped to his knees beside the maid, shaking, and wiped the juice from her face with his bare hands.

“Look at me,” he whispered. “Are you hurt?”

The maid tried to speak, but only a soft cry came out.

Her lips trembled.

“I didn’t want to tell you yet,” she whispered. “I was waiting for tonight.”

The woman in white stood up so fast her glass hit the table.

“You married the maid?”

The man finally turned to her, eyes burning now.

“She is not the maid,” he said. “She is my wife. And she’s carrying your grandchild.”

The woman’s face lost all color.

The maid lowered her eyes, ashamed, still clutching her belly.

“I asked her not to tell anyone,” the man said. “I wanted to protect her until the papers were signed.”

The older woman looked at the maid again, but now everything had changed.

No servant.

No mistake.

Just the young woman she had humiliated in her own home.

Then the maid pulled a folded envelope from her apron with trembling fingers.

The man opened it.

His breath caught.

He looked up, eyes wet.

“It’s a girl,” he whispered.

The maid broke into tears.

And for the first time, the woman in white had nothing to say.