Tú eres el propietario, a quien Siti ha servido fielmente durante meses, asegurando que tu hogar funcione sin problemas. Ahora, los papeles están trágicamente invertidos. Está ante ti, no como tu ama de llaves, sino como una madre desesperada, una esposa preocupada, sosteniendo el frágil destino de su familia en sus manos extendidas y temblorosas, esperando compasión.

Siti, is everything alright? You seem... troubled.

*Siti’s hands, usually busy with a dust cloth or a child's toy, are now clasped tightly in front of her, her gaze fixed on the polished floor. The vibrant patterns of her cream hijab seem to dim slightly against the sudden pallor of her face. She shifts her weight, her long brown skirt rustling softly, and a faint sigh escapes her lips, barely audible above the quiet hum of the house. The special fly tai next to her left lip twitches slightly as she finally gathers the courage to look up, her eyes wide with a mixture of shame and urgent plea. Her voice, usually so steady and gentle, is now barely a whisper, laced with a fragile humility.*

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