At first Reina thought she imagined it.
The maid who usually greeted her in the morning did not smile.
She still bowed.
Still spoke politely.
But the warmth was gone.
"Good morning," the maid said, her voice flat. Reina tilted her head.
"Good morning," she replied brightly.
The maid nodded once and walked away. Reina stood there a moment.
Something felt strange. But she did not know what.
At breakfast, the cook set her bowl down without ruffling her hair.
Usually he did.
He always did.
She waited.
He turned away instead.
Reina looked into her soup.
"...Did I do something wrong?" she asked quietly.
The cook blinked as if surprised she spoke.
"No," he said.
But he did not look at her.
She nodded. If he said she didn't, then she didn't.
So it was fine.
Except it didn't feel fine.
That afternoon she walked past two servants whispering. They fell silent when she approached. One of them shifted uncomfortably.
"...What is it?" Reina asked gently.
The woman forced a smile.
"Nothing."
But her eyes slid away quickly.
Reina continued down the hall.
Her steps slowed.
Behind her the whispering resumed.
From the doorway, her stepmother watched.
Quietly with her lips curved.
Evening came.
Reina waited by the entrance like she always did. Her father usually returned just before sunset. She liked greeting him first because sometimes, if he was in a good mood, he would lift her into his arms and ask about her day. She practiced what she would say.
"I saw a butterfly. I helped fold cloth.
I didn't spill anything."
The motorcar rolled into the courtyard. She brightened instantly.
"Father!"
She ran forward.
He stepped out. His shoes touched the ground. He closed the car door. And walked past her.
Reina blinked.
She turned.
"...Father?"
He did not stop.
She hurried after him, small steps quick against the stone.
"I waited for you," she said softly.
He paused then.
But only for a moment.
He did not look down.
"...I'm tired," he said.
Then he continued inside.
Reina stood very still. Her hands slowly tightened around the edge of her sleeves. She told herself:
He must really be tired. Yes. That must be it.
She smiled faintly. She followed quietly. Not close enough to bother him. Just close enough to see. Her father stopped outside the inner room. The sliding door was closed.
Light glowed faintly beneath it.
His hand lifted.
He slid the door open.
His voice changed.
Warm.
Bright.
Alive.
"How is my child today?" He asked step mother.
Reina's eyes widened.
She had never heard that tone before.
Her stepmother sat inside on cushions, one hand resting gently over her rounded stomach. She smiled up at him, soft and pleased.
"The baby was restless," she said sweetly. "Perhaps it missed you."
Her father laughed quietly. Not the polite laugh he used with guests.
A real one.
He stepped inside and knelt beside her, placing his hand carefully over her stomach as if touching something sacred.
"My little one," he murmured, voice low with affection. "Did you wait for me?"
Reina stood in the hallway.
Still.
Silent.
Watching.
Her father's face looked different.
Lighter.
Younger.
Happy.
She had never seen that expression directed at her after her mother's passing. Her stepmother's gaze shifted.
Slowly.
Past him.
To the doorway.
To Reina.
For just a second her eyes gleamed.
Then she leaned closer to her husband, drawing his attention back.
"The baby will be beautiful," she said softly. "Just like you."
His expression softened even more.
Behind him Reina lowered her eyes.
Her fingers loosened their grip on her sleeves.
"...I'm glad," she whispered.
No one heard her.
She turned quietly and walked away.
Careful.
As if even the sound of her footsteps might disturb someone's happiness.
From inside the room her father's gentle voice continued.
Warm.
Tender.
Full.
None of it followed her.
The next day, Reina went outside to play. The air was warm. The road was dry. The same children she used to weave flowers with sat beneath the tree near the well.
She brightened. She had missed them.
She walked over slowly so she would not startle them.
"...Hello," Reina greeted them softly.
The girls looked up. Their conversation stopped. Reina smiled politely.
"Can I sit with you guys?"
The girls stared. One of them frowned.
"...Why does she look like that?"
Reina blinked.
"Like what?" Reina asked.
The girl leaned closer to the others and whispered loudly enough to hear.
"She looks strange."
Another nodded.
"...Her face is weird."
Reina's fingers curled slightly. She did not understand.
"I don't think she should sit with us," the first girl said.
Silence.
Reina waited.
Because sometimes people paused before saying yes.
No one said yes.
One of the girls picked up her basket and stood.
"Let's go play somewhere else."
They left together.
Reina remained by the tree.
Standing.
The wind moved gently through the leaves. She looked down at her hands.
Turned them over. Looked at her sleeves.
Her shoes.
Her shadow.
Nothing looked strange.
"...Strange," she repeated quietly.
From the veranda her stepmother watched.
Her smile widened.
That night Reina stood before the washbasin. She leaned closer to the water's surface. The reflection rippled.
Blurred.
Twisted.
For a brief moment the face looking back did not look like hers.
Her breath caught.
Then the water stilled and it was normal again. She stepped back slowly. Her heart beating softly.
"...Maybe I'm just tired," she whispered.
Outside wind passed across the buried earth. And deep beneath the soil the doll slept.