Chapter 2 - The Silent War
The chaos that followed was glorious in its pettiness. By 7:30 AM, the house was in an uproar. Minh’s father was grumbling about the lack of coffee, and his sister was frantically searching for the specialty ingredients required for her children’s breakfast.
Mrs. Thuy treated the house like a military encampment. She tried to order me to fetch the keys to the attic, but I simply sat on the porch, reading a book. When Minh approached me, looking distraught, I didn't comfort him.
"Your mother made the rules, Minh," I said calmly. "She wants a hierarchy. I am simply adhering to my place at the bottom. If the bottom doesn't move, the top cannot function. If you’re hungry, I suggest you negotiate with the one who holds the notebook."
The power shift was palpable. For years, the family had functioned on the assumption that the woman of the house was a permanent, renewable resource. By removing myself from the labor, I revealed that they were entirely incapable of sustaining themselves. Mrs. Thuy spent the afternoon trying to cook, but she burnt the rice and couldn't find the clean linens. She was a general without an army.
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She approached me again in the evening, the black notebook clutched in her hand, her knuckles white. "This is my house. You are breaking the order."
"I am following the order," I corrected her, my voice steady. "The order says I eat last. It says nothing about me serving you. If you want a servant, you’ll have to find one who hasn't read the rules."
