The silver teapot hissed softly as steam curled in the air, carrying with it the bitter-sweet smell of herbs.
The maid’s hands trembled as she poured into porcelain cups. Maya watched every movement closely, her instincts humming like a f*****g alarm. Her mother-in-law sat opposite her, lips curved in what might’ve passed for a pleasant smile to anyone else, but Maya wasn’t naïve. That smile was a weapon disguised as kindness.
They raised their cups together. Maya’s fingers tightened on her handle, her eyes steady on the older woman. The first sip burned her throat, the earthy herbs mixing with the faint metallic taste of mistrust.
The woman’s mask cracked for a second. Her gaze flickered to the tray of herbs on the table, eyes narrowing, voice a venomous whisper meant only for herself
