The Woman in the House

Maria arrived at the Singhs' apartment before dawn. She unlocked the gate with her own key. No one had given her a title or a schedule, but everyone knew what she did: she cleaned, cooked, washed, mended, watched the children until they left for school. She had been doing this for seven years. The Singhs never called her an employee. They called her "the help." There was no contract. No tax form. No record at all. When Mrs. Singh's friend asked what Maria earned, the answer came back in a whisper: enough. Maria's hands told a different story. Her nails were broken. A chemical burn ran across her left forearm—bleach from last Tuesday. She had never been to a doctor about it. The work was endless and the pay was whatever the Singhs decided it was that week. No overtime. No sick days. No way to prove she had ever worked there at all. Yet without her, the Singhs' life simply stopped. The children had no breakfast. The house became chaos. Everything depended on Maria's presence. But what happened if she disappeared?