He recognized the voice immediately. It belonged to Maribel Santos, the woman who had managed his household for nearly four years with quiet efficiency and almost no personal intrusion. She arrived early, left late, and rarely spoke unless spoken to. Arthur had always preferred it that way.
“I am not asking for forever,” Maribel continued, her words rushed now. “Just long enough so my mother can stop worrying. You know how she is. She thinks something is wrong with me because I am alone.”
There was a pause, then a soft, muffled sound that Arthur realized was a stifled sob.
He should have turned around. He should have returned to his study and pretended he had heard nothing. That was how he maintained distance, by refusing to engage with lives that were not his own.
Instead, he stood there, listening.
“My cousin’s engagement party is this Saturday,” Maribel said, her voice cracking again. “Everyone will be there. My aunts, my uncles, people who ask questions they have no right to ask. My mother just wants peace. She wants to believe I am happy.”