>Mallory
"Thank you so much for your help." I gratefully chimed at the cleaning lady in her forties as she made her way to the door, a woven basket full of cleaning tools balanced carefully in her hand.
She comes here thrice a week to assist with the housework and the laundry. She simply smiled and offered me a shallow, polite bow before she finally left.
"Anyway, I better continue what I'm doing…" I muttered to myself as I stared at the assorted pile of ingredients arranged in front of me.
I'm planning to cook lunch while my son is still comfortably preoccupied entertaining himself.
The doorbell rang while I was mid–washing the vegetables, its soft chime echoing delicately throughout the entire house. I wiped my damp palms on my apron before removing it and hurried toward the front entrance, my footsteps sounding louder than usual against the polished marble floor.
Who could it possibly be?
