“Ma’am Sienna, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be resting? Please, go back to your room or Master Denver will be upset with us,” said Manang Lita, her voice tinged with genuine concern as she spotted me walking barefoot into the garden, hose in hand.“I’m already feeling much better,” I said, smiling as I adjusted the hose. “It’s just so boring in the room. There’s nothing to do there. Don’t worry, he won’t know about this,” I added, giving her a playful wink.As water flowed out of the hose, gently sprinkling over the bed of bright flowers, I heard Cara mutter from behind me, “Ma’am Sienna is really stubborn.” Her tone was teasing, and Manang chuckled softly beside her.Truthfully, I didn’t mind doing housework. I was used to it. Tasks like watering the garden or sweeping dried leaves were things I grew up doing. They were oddly comforting—routine, predictable. They gave my hands something to do, even if my mind still wandered. But even with the garden work, I couldn’t shake t
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