THE MAFIA'S FAVORITE MAID

It was a normal day. That is the first lie I still tell myself when I think about how everything began. The sun was warm on the campus courtyard. Students laughed as they walked between buildings, phones in their hands, backpacks bouncing. I had just finished my last class of the afternoon—Introduction to Literature—and I was walking toward the library with my notebook pressed against my chest when I saw him. Tyler. He was standing under the old oak tree near the fountain, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets. The moment our eyes met, he started walking toward me fast, like he had been waiting only for me. “Aria,” he said, voice low and rough. “We need to talk.” Something in the way he said my name made my stomach tighten. Tyler never looked scared. He was the guy who smiled through everything, who always had an easy answer. That afternoon his face was pale and his eyes were red around the edges. I let him pull me to a quieter bench behind the science building. The second we sat down he took both my hands in his. His palms were cold and damp. “I’m in trouble,” he whispered. “Big trouble.” I waited. “I owe people… a lot of money. Online debt. Gambling. Crypto stuff I thought I understood.” His voice cracked. “One million dollars, Aria. If I don’t start paying, they’re going to kill me. I mean it. These aren’t normal people.” One million dollars. The number did not feel real. It floated between us like something from a movie. My first thought was that he was joking. My second thought was that he looked too terrified to be joking. “I don’t have that kind of money,” I said quietly. “You know I don’t.” “I know.” He squeezed my fingers harder. “But if you help me… if you just give me whatever you can, every week, every month… I can keep them away. I can stay alive. Please. You’re the only person I trust. I love you. I can’t lose you. I can’t die like this.” I loved him. That was the only truth I was sure of in that moment. He was the first person who had ever looked at me like I was more than the quiet orphan girl on scholarship. He held me when the nights felt too long. He called me “baby” in that soft voice that made the world feel smaller and safer. So I said yes. I did not ask how the debt had gotten so large. I did not ask why he had never told me before. I only nodded, tears already burning behind my eyes, and told him I would do whatever it took. The next morning I went to the registrar’s office and withdrew from every class. My scholarship was gone the moment I stopped attending. I packed the few things I owned into two bags and left the dorm without telling anyone except Tyler. From that day on, my life became work. I started at a small restaurant near the highway, wearing a black apron and carrying trays until my arms ached. When the shifts ended I walked two blocks to a gas station and stood behind the counter until midnight, smelling of coffee and motor oil. On weekends I cleaned rooms at a cheap hotel, changing sheets that still held the shape of strangers. Sometimes I worked all three in the same day. Sleep became something I stole in short pieces between shifts. Every Friday I met Tyler in the parking lot behind the gas station. I handed him an envelope thick with cash—everything I had earned after paying for the tiny room I rented above a laundry. He always pulled me into a hug, kissed the top of my head, and whispered, “You’re saving my life, baby. I love you so much.” I believed him. I believed him when he said the debt was slowly going down. I believed him when he said the people he owed were finally leaving him alone. I believed him when he told me we would start over once it was finished—maybe even get a small apartment together, maybe go back to school someday. I never asked to see the numbers. I never followed him after he left with my money. I simply worked, slept, and handed over every dollar I could, certain that love was supposed to hurt this much when it was real. I had no idea the debt was a lie. I had no idea that every envelope I gave him was paying for someone else’s dresses, someone else’s perfume, someone else’s late-night dinners in restaurants I could never afford to enter. I only knew that I loved him. And that was enough to destroy me.